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“I’ll be there,” I assured her.
“Good. See you soon. Drive carefully.”
“You, too.”
“And Imogene?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mel.”
I ended the call, then tossed my cell onto the front seat, sending up a silent prayer for Alton. I’d never been one to pray, but it felt like the right thing to do. Plus, what else was I going to do while I inched along the freeway?
After a longer than normal drive through heavy traffic, I finally pulled up to the ornate gate at the entrance to Liam’s house and punched in my access code. I half expected for it not to work. Thankfully, the gate sprung open and I navigated my car up the cobbled drive, parking in front of his home.
“Ms. Prescott,” Liam’s housekeeper greeted when she answered the door.
“I’m sorry for showing up like this, but is Liam— Mr. Pierce here? I just heard the news and wanted to check on him.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “Of course, dear. He’s in his office with Senator Turner. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, though. They both will.”
“Thank you.” I stepped into the cavernous entryway, my footfalls echoing against the polished marble tile.
As I walked down the darkened hallway toward his office, a heavy sense of unease settled over me. I tried to brush it off, tell myself it was natural for there to be an ominous feeling in the air. Alton had just killed himself, for crying out loud.
But as I drew closer to Liam’s office, the feeling intensified, sending a chill down my spine. I paused outside the door and drew in a deep breath before reaching out to knock. When I heard raised voices coming from inside, I hesitated, straining to listen.
“Maybe it’s an old glass,” Liam said, his tone laced with anxiety. “One that hasn’t been washed lately.”
“One that was conveniently left on the coffee table next to Alton’s?” James countered, his voice mirroring the nerves in Liam’s.
“What other possible explanation is there?” Liam interjected, his frustration increasing by the second.
I imagined him pacing the length of the room as he tugged on his hair. Or tie. Or guzzled whatever he was drinking.
It was more than apparent that something had him on edge. Something to do with a glass. Butwhatglass? And why was that important? Did they find something indicating that perhaps Altondidn’tkill himself?
“Somebody must have made a mistake,” Liam continued, as if his declaration would make it so. “Have them run the prints again.”
“They already have.Twice. Along with quite a few other items found in close proximity to Alton’s body. Initially, it was to confirm the cause of death, but the second glass on the coffee table stumped them, so they ran it to see if someone else was in the room with Alton.” He lowered his voice. “To see if maybeyouwere in the room with him, considering…recent events.”
“I told you!” Liam roared. “I have no idea how that damn body ended up on my boat. I haven’t been to that marina in months. There’s no record of me using my access card at the gate.”
“I understand all of that, but that doesn’t change the evidence they uncovered at Alton’s cabin.”
No one spoke for several long moments, the only sound that of a grandfather clock keeping time in the distance.
“What does this mean?” Liam asked finally.
“Either someone planted his fingerprints there to fuck with us.”
“Or…” Liam prodded, although I could hear the hesitation in his voice.
“Or Samuel Tate’s back from the dead.”
* * *
