There it was. The official mention of how unbelievably fucked up their mother was. What gnawed at Colin the most wasn’t that he shared genes with her, but that he shared choices. The choice to use—coke for her, pills and liquor for him. The one solace he found was that even before he’d stopped, he’d stopped at using. He’d never moved into the selling, as she evidently had.

“Surprise,” Michael said with disdain. “Inmate 347-921 was a drug dealer, in addition to being a murderer. What next? She ran a child pornography ring? Oh wait. She probably operates an underground sex slave business from prison.” Michael shoved a hand into his dark hair. “Every fucking time it’s something else with her.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of this news.” John’s voice was steady, a stark contrast to Michael’s. “We believe these men were at the top of the pattern not only because of their potential involvement in the murder, but because of their role in the drug ring, and we think below them is the list of people Dora was selling to regularly. Presumably she hid her route in the pattern so no one in her family would know what she was doing. We’d previously thought Stefano was her dealer, but it seems he was a step up. He was her supplier and provided the drugs she sold. That’s why she owed him money—for the drugs she procured from him.” John turned to Colin. “But we don’t believe Stefano was the one who recruited her for it. Do you know anything about how she got involved? Can you remember anything?”

Michael raised a hand and cut in before Colin could say a word. “Why are you asking him?”

“Because of the friends he had when he was younger,” John said to Michael in a cool, even tone. “That’s why I’m here talking to him.”

“I’ll answer it,” Colin said firmly, taking the reins. He loved his big brother, adored him to the ends of the Earth, but Colin wasn’t a kid anymore. “The answer is no. I have no clue how she got involved in dealing drugs. I had no idea she was selling, but it doesn’t surprise me because she was a fucked up, desperate woman. But if you’re asking for details about the drug business the Royal Sinners were in, I’ll tell you anything I know. I’ve been upfront with you from day one, Detective. When I was thirteen, I hung with the wrong crowd. I was friends with the wrong people, and yes, I was friends with the brother of one of the men whose address was in the pattern. T.J. Nelson’s brother Paul. He was fifteen and I was thirteen, and when Ryan told me T.J’s name was in that pattern, I was shocked—and frankly embarrassed that I was ever friends with his brother. We did stupid shit. Egged houses, TP’d them. That was as far as we went. But we knew what the older guys were doing because we heard them talk.”

“What did you hear?”

“They were always talking about territory. They claimed ‘hoods’ for fencing their stolen goods, and when they moved deeper into drugs, they claimed sections of neighborhoods for selling those, too. They marked everything that was theirs with gang logos, insignia, personal graffiti. They’d have a field day on Facebook today with the way they tagged stuff.”

John nodded. “The gang culture, oddly enough, loves social media. They post pictures of themselves online, on Instagram and Facebook, holding wads of bills from their drugs, or showing off phones they stole.”

“That’s what it was all about then, too, in an old school way.”

“What do you know about T.J. Nelson?” John asked.

“He’s the guy you think brokered Stefano’s hits, right?” Michael chimed in. After Sophie uncovered the code in the pattern, and Ryan delivered some fresh details on potential names, the detective had enough info to pinpoint the suspected accomplices. A pair of cousins, T.J. and Kenny Nelson, were believed to have helped Jerry Stefano pull off the murder. When Stefano wound up going to prison for the crime, he never gave up their names. But the detective had new evidence pointing to their roles—T.J. as the broker and Kenny as the getaway driver.

John nodded. “We think that’s a strong possibility. We want to know more about him, and how big his role was.”

“Big? Like he was a mastermind of the whole thing?” Colin asked, trying to get to the heart of what the detective needed to know.

But John kept certain details close to the vest. “There are a number of possibilities we’re looking into. Tell me what you know of him.”

Colin sighed deeply, rewinding to his days as a thirteen-year-old, picturing T.J. Nelson, the towering older brother with the short mohawk, gold earring, and menacing smile. His arms were made of steel, and he had a head for strategy. He was always plotting. “What I remember overhearing was T.J. talking about who was handling what in the Royal Sinners. He was very focused on which guys were responsible for which areas. The territories, they called them,” Colin said. “And they also talked about the protection of them.”

“Of the territories?” John asked, his voice tight and clipped, a shift from his previous tone, as if he were holding something in.

Colin nodded. “Yes. I didn’t have any of the details, but that’s some of what I overheard when he was around. Who handled the fences. Who picked up the drugs. That sort of thing.” Colin held up his hands like an innocent man, telling the whole truth. “I had no clue my mom was selling, dealing, or using. But given what you figured out with that pattern, maybe that’s what she was doing talking to them. Maybe she was picking her territory for selling.”

“Seems she got a prime one,” John said. “Any idea why she would?”

“She probably blew somebody,” Michael said with a sneer.

Colin leaned forward, speaking in a stage whisper. “John, I wanted to let you in on a little secret. You might not have picked up on this, but Michael’s not a fan of our mom.”

John laughed lightly; the momentary tension had vacated. “That’s coming through loud and clear.”

“To answer your question, I have no idea why she would get a prime route, as you say. Except that she was desperate, and maybe she had some strings to pull, because she was willing to do whatever she had to do to get what she wanted. That’s what I know to be true about her. Maybe she and Stefano were working together,” Colin said, because that seemed plausible to him.

Michael cleared his throat. “What’s going on with the Royal Sinners these days, Detective? I follow the news; I’ve been reading up on them, seeing more and more stories about them rising in power. More crimes, more problems, more trouble. More organized, too, than their rival gangs. I keep hearing ‘Don’t mess with the Sinners.’”

“Yeah, we’ve upped the security at the center during the repairs just to make sure the kids are safe,” Colin added.

A somber look flitted into the detective’s eyes. “You hear right. They’re a top priority for Metro, and my men are working hard on gang enforcement and prevention. We’ve got an anonymous tip line for concerned citizens to report suspected gang activity, an anti-gang initiative, and public education is going strong. We’re doing everything we can on the enforcement front. Last week, we had a few more arrests of Royal Sinners members for grand theft auto, and some from rival gangs for burglary.”

“Glad to hear it’s being taken seriously. Some of my other clients have also been asking about it and increasing their security services based on what they’ve been reading in the news,” Michael said. “They want to protect themselves, and to know the authorities are working hard on it, too.”

“I assure you, we are. And you can let your clients know that you’ve talked to Metro and that we’re committed to this,” he added. “We’re doing everything we can to dismantle the gangs, member by member.”

That last word latched onto Colin’s brain, making him wonder if his old friend Paul had gone down the path of his brother into the Sinners.