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  “Why don’t we wait to see what the police discover?” Annette suggested. “You have friends in high places, and I’m certain they’re pushing for the speedy resolution of the investigation into Zac’s disappearance.”

  “You know what’ll happen,” Holderfield charged. “They’ll cover up the truth. I”—he banged his chest—“have had enough. This is my son we’re talking about. My only son. They’ve gone too far this time.”

  “Dr. Holderfield, Dwight,” she reiterated coolly, “you’re overwrought. I’m not sure you realize what you’re saying.” He needed to get hold of himself before he went too far.

  “I know exactly what I’m saying,” he fired back. “I want you to find my son. I want you,” he commanded, “to get to the truth. And if I find out that bastard …” He choked on the rest of the words. “I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Annette sat her tea aside. Time to defuse this ticking bomb. “I would proceed with extreme caution, Doctor.” She met his murderous gaze with lead in her own. “I’m certain you don’t want to go there.”

  Red scaled Holderfiel’s neck and raced across his cheeks. “Don’t you dare threaten me! Whatever they’ve done—”

  “I would suggest,” Annette interjected firmly, “that you get things back into perspective and cooperate with the efforts of the police.”

  Holderfield closed his eyes and heaved a labored breath, visibly struggling with his emotions. “Please.” Defeat weighted the lone word. “I just want to find my son.”

  Annette hesitated. Though history had taught her the prudence in being so, she wasn’t completely heartless. “All right. I’ll look into the situation.”

  His gaze flew open and fury abruptly resurrected despite her generous assurance. Holderfield stabbed a finger at her. “And then we’re done. I’m pulling my retainer fee and I never want to hear your name again.”

  Annette didn’t flinch. But she did bury the foolish empathy she had allowed to surface. She took a cautious sip of her steaming tea, then just as carefully settled the cup and saucer back on the table. “One step at a time, Dr. Holderfield. I’ll see what I can do about learning the circumstances surrounding your son’s disappearance, and then we’ll talk about our future business relationship.”

  Holderfield glowered at her. “There will be no future business relationship, Ms. Baxter. Don’t doubt my decision. When this is done, we’re finished. I’m finished with all of it!”

  Annette stood, straightened her jacket, and leveled her most chilling stare in his direction. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten the conversation we had this time last year.”

  The color of rage leached from his face, leaving it pale and slack. “I paid you in full for your services.” The hands hanging loosely at his sides shook ever so slightly before he hardened them into fists.

  She executed a firm shake of her head. “The monetary compensation was only half our bargain, Dr. Holderfield. I’m certain you remember our terms. You have an outstanding marker. Until I decide to call it in, you remain in my debt.”

  “And if I renege on that portion of our agreement?”

  The tension thickened in the air. Annette let his insolence go yet again. He was worried about his son. She’d cut him some slack this time.

  But business was business. “Then you will suffer the consequences.”

  The color of rage began its steady creep back up his throat. “You think you’re so untouchable. You’ll get yours one of these days.” He stared at her long and hard. “Maybe sooner than you think.”

  Annette allowed him to revel in his temporary revolt for a moment, but when he would have ended the meeting, she intervened. “Dr. Holderfield.”

  He hesitated, his gaze locking with hers. “I have nothing more to say.”

  “You think you know who I am.” She laughed softly, but there was nothing soft or gentle in her manner. “You have no idea. Your concern for your son has you emotional just now. Be that as it may, you threaten me again and you will quickly learn exactly how far I can go to turn that prestigious career of yours into shambles.” She paused so that he might absorb the full implications of her statement. “You have no secrets from me, Dr. Holderfield. Don’t forget that.”

  He opened his mouth, no doubt to debate her decree.

  She stood. “This conversation is over. Have a nice evening.”

  Annette walked out, relaxing marginally in the change of setting. She was accustomed to threats. Most were groundless attempts to intimidate. Her position was always covered.

  At least until recently.

  She’d learned something they did not want her to know. Tension coiled inside her. Of all the powerful players on her client list, those unhappy with her right now were the most powerful. And with the darkest secrets. It had taken one glitch, one ripple, to start the tide against her. They had banded together overnight. Now everything was falling apart.

  If she could stop the momentum in time, she might be able to salvage things.

  But that might just be impossible.

  At the door to her private rooms, her personal assistant waited patiently for further instructions.

  “A martini with two olives,” she said as she walked past him. She was too tired for polite conversation.

  “Right away.”

  Lost in her analysis of Holderfield’s unexpected defiance, she drifted down the hall leading to her master suite. She needed a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow was another day. She would find a way to turn this around.

  Shrugging off her jacket, Annette kicked off her shoes, then peeled the camisole from her torso and wiggled out of her narrow skirt.

  This day had been far too long without nearly enough accomplished.

  She padded to the en suite bath and adjusted the spigots in the tub. As the water flowed and swirled, she freed her hair and let it tumble down her shoulders. She shook it, then massaged her aching scalp. Despite all that had happened, sleep would come easy tonight. She was exhausted.

  A tap on the open door drew her attention to Daniel, who had arrived with her drink. Good. Her faithful assistant placed the drink on the rim of the tub.

  “Thank you, Daniel.” She was more than ready for the escape. “That’ll be all tonight.”

  “Ms. Baxter.”

  Annette recognized that tone all too well. Another problem. She sighed. Would this day never end? “Yes?”

  “You have a private call.” He pulled the untraceable cell she reserved for personal communications from his jacket pocket.

  Her heart bumped her sternum as she accepted the phone. She didn’t have to ask who it would be. She knew. And it would not be good news. “Thank you, Daniel.”

  When he left her alone, she pressed the necessary button to take the call off hold. “This is Annette.”

  The hospital.

  She listened to the doctor’s report, her heart sinking a little more with each word.

  “I understand. Thank you.” Annette severed the connection and placed the phone on the counter. She closed her eyes and searched for that calm place that had eluded her for days now.

  Nothing scared her … but this.

  Her sister, Paula, had suffered another episode. This one worse than the last. If the outbursts continued, there would be no choice but to isolate her.

  The worst possible scenario. Annette remembered all too well the locked rooms … and that basement. She shuddered. She couldn’t let that happen.

  For years her sister had been fine and now, suddenly, everything was spiraling downhill.

  Whatever happened, Paula’s well-being was her primary concern.

  The problem was … if everything else fell apart, then Annette couldn’t properly take care of her sister.

  Filling her lungs with a deep, bolstering breath, Annette opened her eyes and stared at her reflection. She was strong. She could do this.

  She had to do this.

  Tomorrow she would accomplish more. She dropped her leopard-print bra on the tiled floor, then shi
mmied out of her panties. The bruises from her interlude with Carson Tanner lured her attention to her naked body. She touched the one on her hip. A frisson of heat lit deep inside her. Startled her. Ridiculous. Tanner roused her curiosity, nothing more. Sex was never enjoyable for her. Never had been and it was highly unlikely it ever would be. Not with her screwed-up history.

  What would Carson Tanner think of his precious manhood if he knew she had faked every single orgasm she had supposedly had in her life? Not even he had managed to bring her to that revered place. He had, however, managed to stir a smattering of interest. Most unexpected.

  That wasn’t supposed to have happened.

  Watching him exit the grounds of the revered Federal Bureau of Investigation offices today had been a ploy designed to make him wonder, to make him doubt. To trouble that fiercely analytical mind of his. What she’d succeeded in doing was making herself wonder … how would it feel to have a man like that care about her?

  All that fucking integrity. Ambition … and heart.

  Utterly ridiculous. She didn’t need a man. Annette Baxter needed no one. Except her sweet, sweet sister.

  Stepping gingerly into the deep, hot water, Annette reminded herself that she didn’t have sex with men for pleasure. She rarely had sex at all, and then only to accomplish a goal unattainable by any other means. As she had with Carson Tanner. However noble, in the end he was no different from all the others.

  Closing her eyes, she blocked the deluge of memories that attempted to flood her.

  Don’t go back there.

  She reclined in her tub and allowed the liquid warmth to envelop her. Reaching for her glass, she considered that she could take her money and disappear. There was more than enough to live on quite comfortably for some time.

  But she had other obligations from which she could not so easily walk away. That would not be so readily transitioned. Her sister. There was no quick fix there.

  Panic tightened her throat.

  Everything Annette did, had ever done, was for one reason. She could not fail now. She had to hold her ground.

  A new surge of determination fortified her. Oh, yes, she would do whatever was necessary. She would not lose. She drank deeply of her martini, relished the instant warmth that settled deep inside her.

  Annette had been repairing situations for nearly a decade. There wasn’t anyone in enough trouble or an act so horrendous that she couldn’t turn it around.

  She would not … could not fail the only person in this world who meant anything to her … her sister.

  “I’m sorry to trouble you again.”

  Annette started at the sound of Daniel’s voice. He waited at the door. Why hadn’t he gone home already?

  “What?” She hadn’t meant to snap, but she was so tired. Talking, thinking, none of that appealed to her. She needed quiet … and maybe a second martini.

  “I just heard,” he said, regret lining his face, “Jazel Ramirez was killed in a car crash today.”

  Jazel? How could that be? Annette had rendezvoused with her little more than two hours ago. She’d used Jazel’s red Mustang to give the feds the slip and to annoy Carson Tanner. Jazel had been fine when Annette had retrieved her Lexus …

  She reached for the calm that had deserted her, pushing aside the emotions that would have to wait. “When did this happen?”

  “Shortly after five this evening,” Daniel explained gently. “The accident is under investigation. According to our favorite reporter, Nadine Goodman, foul play is suspected considering the condition of Jazel’s Mustang.”

  The dark sedan Annette had noticed in her rearview mirror more than once today tugged at her instincts. What color had it been? Navy? Black? Black, she was pretty sure.

  An ache pierced her.

  Was this merely a warning? Or was she to be terminated in the fullest sense of the word?

  “Thank you, Daniel,” she said, her voice lacking its usual resolve. Annette summoned her courage. No weakness. No fear. “Thank Nadine for me, too,” she said with considerably more potency, “and let me know if you hear anything else. And …” She fought a second onslaught of emotion. “ … see that Jazel’s family has anything they need.”

  “Of course, Ms. Baxter.” Her faithful assistant hesitated before leaving her.

  “Is there something else, Daniel?” She needed to be alone. To grieve … to regenerate her weary soul.

  “You didn’t mention putting Mr. Tanner on your calendar for tomorrow.” He clasped his hands in front of him. “Does that mean you accomplished your goal during your last meeting?”

  Confused and too damned tired to discuss anything at this point, Annette was vaguely aware of shaking her head. “I’m not sure about that yet …” She searched Daniel’s face, trying without success to decipher what was on his mind. “Is there something on my calendar I’ve forgotten?” Generally her assistant didn’t question her intentions; he simply juggled her appointments and took care of her personal needs. Admittedly, she’d been stressed of late. Perhaps he was merely concerned.

  She was concerned.

  “You have a meeting with Commissioner Schmale regarding the Festive Fund-Raiser at ten. Then a two o’clock with Lois Campbell to discuss the October Art Friends auction.”

  Both those meetings had been scheduled for a while. She had nothing else to add. Nothing Daniel or anyone else needed to know about anyway. “Very well. Thank you, Daniel.”

  Her assistant left her alone once more.

  The steamy water felt abruptly cold. Annette shivered.

  If they had decided to get her out of the way in a more timely manner … that could only mean one thing …

  … they would want Carson Tanner out of the way as well.

  Chapter 16

  9:40 PM

  Homewood Public Library

  Dwight watched the Mercedes roll into the secluded parking lot. He couldn’t trust that bitch to do as he’d asked. She didn’t care about him or his son. She would do whatever was necessary to protect herself. She would do whatever they wanted.

  He was alone in this endeavor.

  The Mercedes parked on the farthest side of the lot where the lighting was its dimmest, where Dwight lurked like a common criminal. His lips twisted with fury. He was once the finest thoracic surgeon in this region … but the lure of power and more money had taken him to another level. Only to be reduced to this. Fear, deception … all because of one night fifteen fucking years ago.

  He stepped out of the shadows and waited as patiently as possible. He would have some answers now.

  District Attorney Donald Wainwright got out of his car and walked toward him. His every stride highlighted his impatience. The illustrious DA stopped a few steps away, braced his hands on his hips, and glanced around to ensure they were alone. “What’re you doing, Dwight?”

  His condescension made Dwight all the angrier. “How can you ask me that?” He diminished the distance between them with one bold step. “Where is Zac?”

  Wainwright heaved a big breath. “You called me at this hour of the evening, asked me to come here”—he motioned to the empty lot—“to pose a question you know I can’t answer.” He moved his head slowly from side to side in disappointment, in disgust. “You’re losing your grip, Dwight. I know this is a stressful time, but risks like this can’t be tolerated. There’s too much at stake.”

  Fifteen years … fifteen damned years they had all lived with this secret … with one goal: protect him. Fear compounding the fury already blasting through his veins, Dwight lost all sense of self-possession. He jabbed a finger in Wainwright’s face. “Enough. Enough!” he snarled. “Protecting our own is one thing, but I will not—do you hear me? I will not—let my son be sacrificed because that bastard can’t keep a leash on his own son!”

  Wainwright’s demeanor shifted—nothing obvious, just the subtlest change in his relaxed posture. Dwight wasn’t so over the edge that he no longer owned the good sense to be afraid. I’m certain you do not
want to go there. The bitch’s words reverberated in his skull.

  “Your son,” Wainwright said quietly, so quietly that only a man who knew him well would understand the malice behind the words, “sold drugs to children. Used his education and every damned other approach available to him to further the corruption in this city. He made his bed, now he’ll have to lie in it.”

  Wainwright adjusted the lapels of his jacket and squared his shoulders. “Let the police handle this matter, Dwight. That’s what our tax dollars are for.” He started to turn away, but reconsidered. The near darkness did not conceal his intentions when he added, “Make no mistake, if you get out of control I won’t be able to protect you.”

  Wainwright returned to his car and drove away.

  Dwight didn’t care that Wainwright was correct about the line he stood on the verge of crossing, just as Annette Baxter had accurately assessed the same. Right now a single word pounded violently in his brain: sold.

  Your son sold drugs to children.

  Emotion drained out of Dwight like blood sliding down his limbs and pooling on the pavement.

  He’d come here, demanded that Wainwright meet him in a safe, secluded place, to get answers, to have the truth.

  Dwight had gotten both.

  Zachary Dwight Holderfield, his only son, was dead.

  Chapter 17

  Friday, September 10, 1:45 PM

  227 Leonard Avenue, Nashville, Tennessee

  Delta Faye Cornelius blew out a big puff of blue smoke.

  Carson held his breath until the cloud had passed. When he could breathe again, he guided the lady back to the subject that had brought him here. “You say you considered yourself Annette Baxter’s surrogate mother?”

  Ms. Cornelius took another drag, closed her eyes while she held the noxious fumes deep in her lungs, then released. When her gaze met his, she said, “That’s right. Must’ve been a dozen years ago. We were thick as thieves.”

  The case file on Annette Baxter had indicated that her former friend, and alleged pimp, Delta Faye Cornelius, was dead. According to Ms. Cornelius, she’d had to disappear for a while due to a business deal gone sour. She’d only moved back to Nashville three months ago. The feds hadn’t reached out to her since she was listed as deceased. In reality, she didn’t look far from it. According to her driver’s license, which she had used to ID herself when Carson first arrived, she was fifty-six but she looked every day of seventy. Frail and withered. Her long gray hair had once been coal black. Gold eyes were sunken and heavy-lidded. In the hour since he’d entered her home she’d smoked half a pack of Camel menthols.