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clicks. From inside, he removed some file folders and a key ring.
    He slid a small silver key into the lock on his desk drawer and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t open. With a frown he pulled it away from the drawer to make sure he had the right one. He did.
    He tried again, and again the key wouldn’t turn. Then, with a burst of sudden inspiration, he rotated the key in the opposite direction. The lock clicked loudly into place.
    Open. The drawer had been open. How could that be? He hadn’t left it that way last night. He twisted the key again before pulling out the drawer, then turned it so the silver latch popped up.
    Someone had broken into his desk—he ran his thumb over the metal, scarred with several deep grooves—and not for the first time.
    His expense ledger and the few other items he kept in the drawer appeared untouched. He reached farther inside until his fingers closed around the small velvet ring box. Someone had been in his desk on the day of Michelle’s memorial. Coincidence? Not likely.
    “Anything out of place?”
    At the sound of his father’s voice, Jonathan released the box as if burned and quickly closed the drawer. The latch, still in the locked position, kept him from closing it all the way and he struggled to clamp down on the irrational sense of panic rocketing through him. He lifted his gaze to his father’s huge frame filling the doorway.
    Had his father been the one in his desk? Jonathan’s saliva dried up and he had to clear his throat before he spoke. “Should there be?”
    “I know you like things just so and I wasn’t sure your brother or your wife would remember to put everything back in order after he finished banging her.”
    Relief washed over him. Thank God his father hadn’t seen. The old man was very astute; he would have known instantly what the ring meant.
    Lara and Richard. Had they been searching together or had one interrupted the other? And would either of them understand what the ring symbolized?
    “I told you when you married her she was trash.”
    “That you did.” Jonathan struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. He’d known about Lara and Richard for months. If his father had only just found out, the old man had certainly lost his touch.
    Deep frown lines creased Samuel’s wide forehead as his pale gaze bored into Jonathan. “I thought you should know.”
    “And I appreciate your tact.”
    His father’s skin turned deep red from his sagging jowls to his scalp, visible through the steely gray crew cut. For a moment, Jonathan thought Samuel might explode, but instead his lips curved into that dreadful smile—the same one he had feared as a child and sometimes saw twisting his own mouth as an adult.
    “You always did have a soft spot for trash.” The old man chuckled and turned away.
    As Samuel left, still snickering to himself, Lara pressed her back against the wall behind one of the Romanesque pillars lining the long hall like silent gray soldiers. She hoped to God he wouldn’t see her.
    As his footsteps echoed off the marble floor, fear gripped her heart and squeezed until she could hardly breathe.
    Jonathan knew. The words drummed again and again in her head. Closing her eyes, she swallowed back the thick bile bubbling in her throat.
    How could she be so careless? First she had forgotten to lock the desk and now Richard. She couldn’t lose this life. Not after all that she had done to get it. She needed damage control and fast. It would take time to put things in place; she only hoped she had enough left.
     
     
    A few hours and a hot bath later, Haley wondered if giving the man suspected of murdering her sister an ultimatum had really been such a wise decision. She settled on her ugly, mustard-colored sofa, with a cup of tea cradled in both hands, absorbing the warmth through her skin. Probably not.
    Granted, she did enjoy his dumbfounded expression, but waving a red flag before a bull was never a good idea. The problem was, she couldn’t