Her father. She’d been right. About it all. That’s why Tim had called her at the spa, meaning to leave a message for her. To prepare her.

Reed’s thoughts raced forward to the note her ex had left for her. I have news. Clarkson’s meeting with Alex’s father had been successful. Or so he had thought.

Why kill Clarkson?

Reed answered his own question. To keep his secret safe. Of course. But what secret? That he was Alex’s father? Or something more ominous?

“You okay, Reed?”

Tanner stood in his doorway. He motioned her in. “I’m good. And you’re just the person I needed to see.”

She wandered in, sank onto the chair across from him. “What’s up?”

“Followed a hunch and gave San Francisco State a call. Clarkson didn’t have a faculty meeting yesterday.”

“So one of them lied.”

“My bet’s on him.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

He ignored that. “The question is why.”

She nodded. “Thanks. We’ll work on that. Cell records will help there.” She leaned forward. “Got some interesting information from the Ashton Drake people. Apparently, each doll is unique and comes with a serial number and adoption papers.”

She paused. “You adopt your baby. It’s all very official. They’ve got ‘adoption’ documents going back to the seventies.”

“Tell me you’ve got a name.”

“Not yet. By the end of the day.”

She stood and stretched. “Sorry you’re off the case.”

“How’s Saacks doing?”

“He catches on fast. He’s trying to nail down who at Red Crest took Schwann’s call. I’ll keep you updated.”

His cell vibrated. He glanced at the display and saw that it was his father. They hadn’t spoken since two nights ago, when his dad had told him to get off his property.

He thanked Tanner, then answered. “Hello, Dad.”

“I need to see you. Can you come over?”

“When?”

“Now?”

“Where are you?”

“My office.”

Reed frowned. His father sounded strange. Shaken. “What’s this about, Dad?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Wednesday, March 17

12:45 P.M.

When Reed arrived at Red Crest, he headed back to the offices, which he found deserted. Everybody, it seemed, was at lunch. He passed Eve’s desk, making his way to his dad’s office.

The door was closed; he tapped on it. “Dad, it’s Dan.”

Wayne called for him to come in; Reed did and closed the door behind him. His father stood at the window, gazing out at the vineyards.

At the snap of the door, he swung to face his son. “I heard about that murder.”

Reed slipped his hands into his pockets. “What did you hear?”

“That she most likely did it.”

“She?”

“Patsy’s girl.”

He couldn’t even say her name. Why? Reed frowned. “You mean Alexandra?”

“You know I do.”

“Then why not say her name?”

He glared at him. “I hear you let her go.”

“Didn’t have enough to charge her, Dad. And I don’t make those decisions. D.A. called it.”

“You know where she is?”

“I might. Why?”

“She’s been busy.” He crossed to his desk, snatched up an envelope from his desk and held it out. “Take a look at this.”

Reed crossed to his father and took the envelope. Inside, folded, was a single sheet of paper. On it, in what appeared to be twelve-point Helvetica, were two simple sentences: I know your secrets. I will make you-and the others-pay.

He read it twice, then returned his gaze to his father’s. “You think Alexandra sent you this. Why?”

“Who else would have?”

He searched his father’s expression, noting the way he couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a few seconds, the subtle flush across his ruddy cheeks. “What secrets is the letter writer referring to?”

“How the hell should I know? She’s crazy with a capital ‘C.’ Just like her mother.”

Reed narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying, Dad. We both know it, so can the bullshit outrage and tell me the truth.”

For a moment, it looked as if his dad was going to argue anyway, then he shut his mouth and went around his desk and sat. He dropped his head into his hands.

Reed watched him a moment, waiting. “What secrets, Dad?” he prodded finally.

When he still didn’t answer, Reed took a shot. “It’s that story you told about Alex’s mother, about the BOV. It was a lie, wasn’t it?”

He nodded but didn’t look up.

“Why’d you lie?”

“To cover up the real truth of the BOV. In the hopes that she would stop asking questions, go back to San Francisco and just let the past die.”

“Are you Alexandra’s father?”

He looked stunned by the question. “God, no! Why would you even ask that?”

Reed ignored the question. “What does BOV really stand for? Not Boys of the Vine?”

“No. Brethren of the Vine.” He sighed, the sound heavy. “It started out innocently. On the Spring Equinox, a costume party. A mock Dionysian ritual. Patsy arranged the party. She invited the group we routinely partied with. She went all out, studied the myths and rituals surrounding the god. We had a mock altar, candlelight, incense. Wine and more wine.

“We were wild back then. Full of ourselves. Wine was becoming the legal drug of choice, and California was the supplier. We thought no one could touch us. That we were invincible.

“The party became a monthly thing. It got wilder, more out of control. As if we’d begun buying into it all, taking it seriously.” His father’s voice cracked. He passed a hand across his forehead. He didn’t look Reed in the eye. “It started innocently. A touch that should have been rebuffed, but wasn’t. A drunken kiss between friends that became anything but platonic, a revealing glimpse of breast or belly… I don’t remember exactly the moment it happened or which incident went from blurring the line to crossing it.”

Reed stared at his father, struggling to come to grips with what he was telling him. “You’re talking about wife swapping and group sex?”

“Try to understand, Son. We were living in this small world. We were the beautiful people. Everybody wanted to be us…” His dad looked ill. “It grew on us. It became like a drug. For all of us. If one had called a halt, I think we would have all stopped, but-”

“No one did.”

He shook his head. “It was insidious, like a spider. The forbidden. Our secret. The sex. Soon we were all ensnared in the web of our own making.”

Reed turned his back to his father, unable to look at him.

“That’s what we were all doing the night Dylan disappeared. We were all in the cave.”

He swung back to face his father. “You lied to the police, the FBI.”

Wayne got to his feet. “Don’t you understand? Our reputations were at stake! If this had gotten out, we would have been ruined!”

“Don’t you get it? Any one of you could be the one who killed Dylan.”

“No.” He shook his head. “We were all together in the cave.”

“And no one could have slipped out unnoticed? Between the wine and the orgasms, Dad, who was paying attention?”

No one was. The blood drained from his father’s face and he sat back down.

“Do you know who killed Alberto Alvarez?”

“Who?”

“The Sommers’ gardener. The one murdered with a secateur.”

“No! Why would I know that-”

“Who was involved? What families besides you, Patsy and Harlan?” When he didn’t immediately answer, Reed began ticking them off. “The Schwanns. The Townsends. The Bianches. Who else?”

“Max Cragan and his wife. For obvious reasons, we kept it small.”

Max Cragan. Who’d designed the ring. And who was now dead.

“Joe and his friends, were they involved?”

“No! God, no. I’d never-”

“Then why’d Tom Schwann have the tattoo?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“It’s not! I don’t know!” He launched to his feet once more, quivering with some strong emotion. “I-” Suddenly, he seemed to crumble. “They found out, somehow. Not everything, not about the sex… but they… started their own group. That stopped, too, after Dylan was abducted.”