Mitch spoke up. Can we talk somewhere privately?

Lane frowned. I want my lawyer present.

When Mitch just shook his head, Lane glanced at the other officers.

Neither of them were meeting him in the eye.

Lane descended down to ground level and indicated with his hand.

The parlor.

As the four of them proceeded into the elegant room, Mr. Harris closed the double doors into the foyer" and by tacit understanding, nothing was said until the man came around to the other side of the room and closed those panels as well.

{ 394 }.

Lane crossed his arms over his chest. Whats up, Mitch. You look- ing for a trifecta? Gin, then me" and now how about my father"

It is with profound regret that I inform you that"

A cold shot of fear rocked through his body. Not Edward, oh, God, please not Edward"

" a body was found in the river about two hours ago. We have reason to believe it is that of your father.

The exhale that left Lanes lungs was slow and strangely even.

What . . . He cleared his throat. Where was it found?

On the far side of the falls. We need you to come down and identify the body. Next of kin is preferred, but I never put a wife through that if I can avoid it.

By way of answering, Lane went over to the bar cart and poured himself a measure of Family Reserve. After tossing it back, he nodded to Mitch and the other two members of law enforcement.

Give me a moment. Ill be right back.

As he passed by Mitch, the man reached out and grabbed his shoul- der. Im very sorry, Lane.

Lane frowned. You know, I cant say that I am.

{ 395 }.

FORT Y- SEV EN.

L ane told no one where he was going or why.

When he came back down from his rooms, he had his cell phone with him and his wallet, and he was careful to stay out of eyesight of the people who were eating and conversing quietly in the dining room.

No, he wasnt telling anyone anything. Not until it was certain.

Getting into the back of Mitchs sheriffs SUV, he closed himself in and stared out the front windshield.

When the guy was behind the wheel, Lane said, Does anyone know?

Weve kept it quiet so far. The body washed up into a boathouse slip about a quarter mile from the falls. The people who called it in are good folk. They were shaken up and dont want a lot of media attention or reporters on their property. Its not going to hold forever, though.

The ride down to the morgue was a bizarre one, time slowing to a crawl, everything too bright, too clear, too loud. And once they were inside the dull, utilitarian building, all that got worse until he felt like he was tripping, the surreal quality like something out of a Jerry Garcia cartoon.

{ 396 }.

The only thing he could do, the only thing he was tracking, was fol- lowing Mitch wherever the guy went" and before long, Lane found him- self in a private waiting room that was about the size of a pantry.

In the center of the wall ahead of him was a curtain that was pulled into place over what he assumed was a large glass window. Next to the setup was a door.

No, Lane said to Mitch. I want to see him face- to- face.

There was an awkward moment. Listen, Lane, the bodys in bad shape. It went over the falls and might have even tangled with a barge.

Itll be easier"

Not interested in easy. Lane narrowed his eyes on the deputy. I want in there.

Mitch cursed. Give me a minute.

As the sheriff disappeared through the door, Lane was glad the guy hadnt fought him any harder than that" because he didnt want to ad- mit to the guy that the reason he needed to get up close and personal in this situation was that he had to be sure his father was really dead.

Which was stupid.

Like all these cops would waste their time making this shit up?

Mitch came back and held the door open. Come on in.

Walking into the tiled space was something Lane was going to re- member for the rest of his life. And Jesus, it was just like the movies: In the center of the room, on a stainless- steel rolling table, was a body bag.

Absurdly, he noted that it was the exact same type as the one Rosa- linda had been put into.

Off to the side of the gurney, a woman in a white coat stood with her gloved hands clasped in front of her. If youre ready, sir?

Yes. Please.

She reached up and clasped the zipper. Pulling downward about two feet, she spread the opening wide.

Lane leaned in, but the smell of water and rot made him recoil.

He hadnt expected his fathers eyes to be open.

Thats him, Lane choked out.

Im sorry for your loss, the coroner said as she started to rezip the bag.

{ 397 }.

When shed finished the job, he supposed they wanted him to leave, but he just stood there staring down at the body bag.

All kinds of images coughed their way into his thoughts, a jumble of things from the past and the present.

No more future, though, he thought. There was going to be nothing further with the man after this point.

God, of all the ways hed envisioned things ending between them . . .

this quiet moment, in this cold medical room, with Mitch Ramsey on one side of him and a total stranger on the other, was so not it.

What now? he heard himself ask.

Mitch cleared this throat. Unofficially, and do not hold me to this, were pretty sure it was a suicide. Given everything that has been . . .

well, you know.

Yes. Clearly. And law enforcement wasnt even aware of the miss- ing money.

What a fucking coward, Lane thought at his father. Creating this huge mess and then opting out by throwing yourself off a bridge.

Asshole.

Wed like your consent to do an autopsy, Mitch said. Just to rule out foul play. But again, thats not whats on our minds.

Of course. Lane glanced over at the deputy. Listen, I need some time before this gets out in the press. I have to tell my mother, my brothers, my sister. I dont even know how to get in touch with Max- well, but I do not want him hearing about this on the six- oclock news.

Or worse, TMZ.

Law enforcement is committed to working with you and your family.

Ill be as quick as I can.

That would make it easier on everyone here.

A clipboard came out of nowhere, and he signed a variety of things.

As he gave the pen back to the coroner, he thought, Shit, they were going to have to plan a funeral.

Although, to be honest, the very last thing he had any interest in was honoring his father in any fashion.

{ 398 }.

Im not hungry.

As Edward sat in his chair in his cottage, he was fully aware that he sounded like a four- year- old refusing dinner" but he didnt care.

The fact that the smells coming out of that galley kitchen were making his mouth water was beside the point.

Shelby, however, had selective hearing. Here you go.

She put the bowl of stew on the table next to his bottle of . . . what was he drinking now? Oh, tequila. Well, wasnt that going to go swim- mingly with the beef gravy.

Eat, she commanded"in a tone that suggested he either did the job himself or she was going to puree the stuff and force feed it to him through a straw.

You know, you can leave anytime you like, he muttered.

For godsakes, the woman had been in his house all day long, clean- ing, doing laundry, cooking. Hed pointed out to her a couple of times that she had been hired to take care of the horses, not the owner, but again . . . her hearing was very spotty.

Damn, thats good, he thought as he took a mouthful.

I want to make an appointment for you with your doctor.

The sound of a car driving up was a welcome intrusion. Especially as he struggled to remember what day it was" and hoped it was some- how Friday once again: He rather liked the idea of her seeing a prosti- tute come to service him. Hell, she could watch if she cared to, not that it was much of a show"

For a split second, he recalled the feel of Sutton straddling him, moving up and down, looking into his eyes.

A sharp pain through his chest made him eat faster just to get rid of the sensation.

The knocking was loud.

Would you mind doing the honors? he said to Shelby. If its a woman, invite her in. If it isnt, tell them to get the hell off my property"

{ 399 }.

and use the word hell, will you? We both know its in your vocabu- lary.

The glare she shot him probably would have blown him off his feet if he hadnt been sitting down already.

But she did go to the door.

Opening it up, she said, Oh. My.

Who is it, Edward muttered. Your fairy godmother?

Except, no. It was Lane.

As his brother came into the cottage, Edward started shaking his head. Whatever it is, youve gotta go somewhere else with it. I told you, Im not going to help you anymore"

May we speak in private.

Not a question.

Edward rolled his eyes. It doesnt matter what you say.

This is family business.

Isnt it always. When Lane didnt budge, Edward cursed. What- ever it is, you can say it in front of her.