“The only one who can get hurt by that is you, Rory. You’re the one whose pictures can be displayed. If he displays mine, we’ve got him on child porn.”

“True. But you know what? Maybe I need to just accept the risk. How else are we going to finish this?”

“No. Hard no. I’m not going to let you do this.”

“Callie, so much more is going on right now.”

Her eyes widen again. “How much do you know?”

“I’m just talking about our family. The fire. We’re in dire straits, for God’s sake.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Why? What are you talking about?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens again.

“Are you going to talk anytime soon?” I ask.

“Rory,” she says, “there’s some stuff going down with Donny’s family. I’m not sure how much I can tell you. But I will tell you this. It makes what’s going on with us and Pat Lamone seem like nothing.”

The Steels? The golden Steels? Something’s going on with them?

Granted, Talon was shot. “Are you talking about Talon?”

“Talon, yes, among other things.”

“What other things?”

“I wish I could tell you everything. I have to talk to Donny first. I can’t break his trust.”

“I understand.” My words aren’t lies. I do understand. But right now, I want to know. “You can also trust me, Callie.”

“I know that. I trust you and Donny both more than anyone. But this is big, Ror. I can’t break his confidence without his permission.”

I say nothing for a few tense minutes. Then, “I get it.”

“Do you? Because for a minute it didn’t seem like you did.”

I sigh. “Of course I get it. Just… Maybe we do go to town. Find Doc Sheraton.”

“It’s already afternoon.” Callie looks at her watch. “He’s only open on Saturday morning.”

“Then we go to his house.”

“And risk running into Pat Lamone like I did last time?”

I nod. “Exactly that. Because we know Pat is behind this. Pat and Brittany. There’s no way Doc Sheraton knows about those photos.”

“Except we’d be cluing Doc Sheraton in,” Callie says. “I’m not the one who’s at risk here. You are.”

Courage—at least I think it’s courage—pulses through my veins.

I came close to having a baby on my own today. That takes guts.

You know what else takes guts? Calling Pat Lamone’s bluff.

“It’s time to take a few risks,” I say. “Why should we let Lamone have the last say in this? Why should we let him ruin our lives?” I stand up, straight and tall. “Let’s go into town.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m damned sure.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Brock

I kneel, Dale’s flashlight still strapped to my hat. “I found something.”

I pick it up. Shine my light on it.

“What is it?” Dale asks.

“It’s another red fingernail. A fake plastic fingernail, like the one Donny found outside.”

“Which means…” Dale scratches his head. “Whoever moved whatever was in this attic space was wearing plastic fingernails?”

“That’s not what it means at all. It means that one of the bodies they moved was probably wearing plastic fingernails.”

“Yeah,” Donny says. “First of all, anyone coming to do heavy criminal work like moving decaying bodies wouldn’t be wearing plastic fingernails.”

“Women can do dirty work,” I say.

“Sure they can, but would they really be wearing plastic fingernails to do it? They were probably wearing gloves, regardless of gender.”

I nod. “Good point. Which means these fingernails are from one of the bodies they moved, or they’ve been planted.”

“Damn,” Donny says.

I clear my throat. “I don’t know who’s behind this. But here’s the thing. Maybe they were planted, but we don’t know that. I think we have to go on the assumption that these are clues whether they were planted or not.”

“I agree,” Dale says.

“Have either of you found anything else suspicious up here?” I ask.

“I haven’t,” Donny says.

“Me neither.” Dale shakes his head. “We’re dealing with people who know what they’re doing. Which means it’s all the more likely that these fingernails have been planted. One outside the building and one up here.”

“Could be,” I say, “but what if they aren’t? What if they came off one of the bodies that was up here?”

“We don’t even know for sure that bodies were up here,” Donny asserts.

Dale shakes his head again. “Don, we know. You know that we know.”

“You’re sure about the smell, then?” I say.

Dale nods. “As sure as I am about anything else in my life, Brock. That’s not something you forget.”

“So what now?” Donny asks. “It’s not like we can search for some woman who might have eight red plastic fingernails. It won’t work.”

“No,” I say, “but we can give these to Hardy. Get them dusted for fingerprints.”

“They’re awfully small,” Dale says.

“True.”

I’m out of ideas. My cousins know more about deranged people and how they think than I do.

“Here’s what we have for now,” Donny says. “Two fingernails and some bones.”

“Let’s get them all checked for DNA.” I rub my chin against a suddenly uncontrollable itch.

Tags: Helen Hardt Steel Brothers Saga Erotic
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