“Cross has been taken into custody,” Miller said, rearranging the pens on her desk until they formed a straight line.

I stared at her.

“I wanted to tell you earlier. I know how hard this has been on you—”

“Why?” I finally asked when the short between my brain and my mouth fixed itself. “Brett Wilson is Cross’s half brother. The abridged version is that he covered up the murder to protect him.”

“Sonofabitch.”

“That about sums up my reaction,” said Duggan.

Miller gave him a look.

I rubbed my temples, where the dull throb had instantly become a pounding roar. The revelation explained a lot and nothing at the same time.

“What’s the unabridged version?” I asked, uncertain if I could handle any more. I’d expected to feel relief in finding out the truth, but all it did was raise more questions.

“Brett was a troubled kid. He had some problems when he was younger, but because Cross was on the force, it afforded him some leeway. Brett turned eighteen two weeks before the homicide.”

“You mean before he murdered my parents?”

Tenley slipped her hand under mine. I squeezed.

“Are you sure you want me to go on?” At my nod, Miller continued, “Brett alleged he made two calls that night. The first was to Damen, the second to his brother. Around the same time, a call came through dispatch. Cross was the first to arrive on the scene. From what we understand, he either misfiled or tampered with the evidence, making most of it inadmissible. Some of the reports didn’t match up. At the time it looked like Cross’s partner had been the problem, but we know now that Cross had orchestrated it to look that way. The painting was the one thing he wasn’t able to dispose of. It was reported stolen. We believe he hid it with the intention of going back to dispose of it later. That didn’t happen, though. Lab reports confirm both his fingerprints and Brett’s were on it.”

It took me a minute to process it all as the pieces fell into place. “Cross couldn’t go after Damen, though, could he?”

“Not unless he wanted to implicate himself,” Duggan said.

“Are they going to jail?” I asked.

“There will be a trial,” Miller said.

“Will I have to testify?”

“Your testimony will be helpful to the case.”

Reliving it all over again would suck—but I didn’t want any of them to get less time than they deserved.

In late February the case went to trial. Things moved a lot faster than I expected them to, which was both a relief and a challenge.

Tenley adjusted my tie and smoothed the lapels of my suit jacket. “I think we’re ready.”

I hugged her hard. “Whatever you hear today, please remember all of this happened a long time ago.”

“And I want you to remember that whatever comes out during the trial isn’t going to change anything. I’m still going to be here, trying to remember not to leave my panties on the closet floor.”

I smiled into her shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Never doubt that.” She took my hand and opened the door to the courtroom.

I could have sat through the whole trial and listened to Brett and Damen and Cross give their versions of events, but it wouldn’t change the outcome. The only thing I wanted at this point was justice, in the form of incarceration. It was the reason I was taking the stand.

My anxiety ratcheted up as we were escorted to the front of the room. I recognized a lot of faces: girls who worked at The Dollhouse and managed to move on, others who hadn’t. Some of Damen’s employees were among them, as well. They all sat together, united in their stand against the people who had wronged them.

Sienna sat in the second row on the opposite side of the courtroom. She was hard to miss in the orange jumpsuit. She looked pitifully fragile and small. The scar on her face was more noticeable without makeup. It was likely orchestrated to make people feel sorry for her. She looked at me when I passed, her regret obvious. Damen had knocked her off her pedestal and then some. Beyond being subpoenaed to testify for this case, she was also up on myriad other charges. No matter how much she plea-bargained, she would do time for her offenses. I almost felt sorry for her. In her own fucked-up way, she’d cared about me once, but she’d never been what I needed.

I was the only person to take the stand. Even though I’d been given an idea as to what I might be asked, the questions were still painful to answer. I kept my focus on the front row, where my family was. Cassie, Nate, Chris, Lisa, Jamie, and Sarah were all there, a wall of solidarity and support. In the middle was Tenley. She was the reason I got through it—because once it was over, I had someone worth moving on for.

I didn’t go back to the courtroom after that. There was no need. While the trial lasted weeks, the jury was quick to reach a verdict. All three of them got time behind bars.

33

TENLEY

Hayden looked up from his station when I entered the shop. “Give me a few. Nate and I are almost done.”

“As in done done?” I leaned over the counter where Lisa was, dropped my purse on the floor, and gave her a one-armed hug.

“You need to check it out,” Lisa said. “Cassie’s going to freak when she sees it.”

As I went to take a peek, Nate put up a hand to stop me, and Hayden batted it down. “I’m shading in her face, you stupid fuck—don’t move.”

“You’re not even working on this arm.”

“Doesn’t matter. You move one appendage, the rest of your upper body shifts.” Hayden’s eyes stayed on the design but he pointed right at me. “You. Stay where you are until I’m finished.”

I took a step back. “Sorry, cupcake.”

The tattoo machine lifted from Nate’s arm as Hayden raised his head to glare at me.

Chris, who had been working on a client of his own, stopped what he was doing. “Did I hear that right? Did Tee just call you ‘cupcake’?”

Lisa stifled a laugh. I went behind the counter and used her as a barricade.

“I thought we agreed you’d keep that to yourself,” Hayden said.

“It was a slip.” Sort of.

“You’d better watch it. No one’s going to be around later to save your ass.” He went back to tattooing Nate’s arm.

“Promises, promises.”

I could see him smiling even though his head was down. His hair had grown out some since the trial ended. It was almost in his face again, as it had been when I’d first met him. I liked it a little longer, so he hadn’t gotten it cut.

He took his time with the last few lines of ink. After he put the machine down, he spent longer than necessary checking it over. “All right. You’re good. I’ll want to have a look at it in a week or two in case it needs a touch-up, but we’re done for now.” Hayden’s satisfaction was evident.

Nate pushed up out of the chair. He was wearing a thin wife-beater; his button-down shirt and tie hung neatly on a hook by Hayden’s station. The first thing I noticed—but tried not to—was the outline of a steel ring at his left pec.

“Is that—”

“A nipple ring?” Lisa finished. “I did that for Cassie’s birthday a few years back.”

“Those two are kinda freaky, aren’t they?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Her grin said it all.

I held up a hand to stop her. I had no desire to hypothesize about any other metal Nate might have. “And I’m good with that.”

Nate and Hayden had gone to the three-way mirror to check out the finished ink.

“When’s your next session?” Lisa pulled at the neck of my offthe-shoulder shirt, peeking down my back at the mostly finished design.

“I have no idea.”

I’d been in Hayden’s chair four times in the past eight weeks; two more sessions and I’d be done. He was taking his sweet time with the shading because it needed to be perfect, and he still didn’t want to work on me for longer than two hours.