Alex eyed the day’s schedule. It hung under a Boston Police Department magnet on the refrigerator.

Today was a half-day for schools and the start of a short holiday break. A lunchtime costume parade at the Double M for the after-school kids was compulsory for the whole family. Sophie and Meghan were both fully engaged in the festivities. The family events and kid-centered activities brightened everyone who got involved.

Not to be a complete dick or anything, but he was secretly glad the twins were far too young for anything more than a photo op and some pass around and get kisses fun. He was jumpy and exhausted at the same time. Years of experience hiding these things meant that to all outward appearances, he was smiling Jack but inside was a different matter.

He looked forward to spending daddy time with Stevie and Aiden, and with Mommy tied up at the community center, that meant he had a free afternoon to indulge his fatherly passions, books, and music.

A new storybook about puppies was on the agenda and a sing-along with an old autoharp he found in storage. Flowers drawn in nail polish decorated the outside of the case, and on the inside, Angie had scribbled her name in permanent marker. He’d pass it on to her after the baby came, but until then, it was a Marquez family heirloom that he intended to use.

Dinnertime was hard to ascertain from the schedule. Several things were listed, but they all appeared to be crossed out.

The final round of the poker tournament was tonight. So was the billiards challenge. Remy had no problem whatsoever at poker, and Kelly continued to surprise everyone with her eagle-eyed skills at the pool table.

He teased Remy after her first round. She was so short, it gave her a singular view of the table and her opponents. He found it funny that she sat cross-legged and outwardly calm in an old chair that fit her like a glove. Her confidence and almost boredom as she wiped up the floor with everyone had to be disarming to her opponents.

Tonight was also the warm-up to tomorrow’s battle of the bands. It was the first and only time either band would have to familiarize themselves with the physical setup, make any adjustments, and do a sound check.

The Boston PD magnet called to him. He touched it with one finger. Paddy was working a few investigatory angles from his side of the country. Alex had asked him to poke around in some things—all stuff that wouldn’t raise any suspicions coming from a veteran detective teaching at the police academy.

He checked in regularly with his father-in-law. It always just felt right to him that he communicated regularly with his wife’s father, and he wasn’t talking bullshit chitchat while Meghan sat nearby. Nope. He and Paddy talked as men. It was important to Alex that the O’Brien’s faith and trust in him were given the respect and attention it deserved. It was something he had to earn every day. Someday, he’d be faced with someone taking Stevie away. Maybe to a different state. That cold reality made him double down on his promises to Meghan’s father. Now that he had a daughter of his own, he understood what he was asking of Patrick O’Brien. Giving some man your baby girl to take care of and love was a huge thing.

Maybe if the twins took a nap this afternoon, he’d give Paddy a call. Catch him right before dinner and see if he’d found anything new.

His phone buzzed. He looked at it absently. Cam. He wondered what it could be about. Was it possible that he found something about the second potential snitch inside Justice?

Of all the information Alex had culled over the past few weeks, one thing that stood out was Liang’s assertion that Richie Zimmerman was a diversion meant to divert their attention while an insider betrayed them all.

Cam took this stuff personally. He was their guy for seeking out new people. Nobody who worked with Justice did so without his heavy, deep vetting. The guy was so thorough that he knew people’s cholesterol levels and what kind of toilet paper they preferred for wiping their asses.

He overlooked Richie and then sulked like a madman after Remy mentioned that she always thought the jerk was a little squirrelly.

Alex pressed call back. “What’s up?”

“I found some curious shit, not about Justice, that I think you might want to hear.”

“You found something, but it’s not Justice, and I’m gonna wanna hear this why?”

Laughter was Cam’s first response. “Because I’m afraid of your dad.”

“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good. And it doesn’t make sense.”

Good old finding Waldo Cam got right to it. “I dug around in Jace’s background. Found something that keeps pinging. On the one hand, it’s nothing, but I sense something, man.”

“Where are you?”

“Lacey took Lily with her to the store. I’m hanging solo at home with Dyl. He’s making shit out of the hundred-and-fifty-piece set of building blocks your mom sent over. He won’t stop till every block is in use.”

“I’ll come over. Only have an hour, though. Meghan and Carmen are finishing the kids’ costumes, and I’ll be dead man walking if I’m not back in time to leave for the Double M.”

“Then get your butt in gear and get over here!”

It was right to get Alex involved. Cam was sure there was something to it, but so far, he hadn’t connected all the dots, and what he was left with was a bunch of investigative data points. Data points that his gut told him revealed something he couldn’t pin down. Yet.

The developing legend of French Cowboy, Jace Delacroix, and pot-stirring beauty, Sophie Marquez, was steeped in old-school romance, but there was also intrigue, and as far as he could tell, Cam was the only one who saw it.

Or did he? Was his imagination running wild? He honestly couldn’t tell, and it was shaking him up a bit. Getting to the bottom of shit was what he did, and not for bragging rights or anything, but nobody was as good as him. Period. Until he fucked up with Richie.

At Alex’s stern urging, Cam was re-evaluating everyone who was Justice or Justice adjacent, looking for anything. So far, he came up empty where Justice was concerned, but something curious came up when he got bored and started digging into Jace’s past. Something about Jace and Sophie tickled a spot on the back of his neck that told him to pay attention. But pay attention to what?

With a frustrated grunt, he pushed back from the kitchen table and stood. In his hand were two printouts. The first, labeled Sophie, was a one-page fact sheet, some of which he knew firsthand.

She was something of an open book. During the time that her family lived in Spain, she was heavily involved with the Valleja-Marquez winery. Her life consisted of a laser-sharp focus on the family business with the occasional business trip. She lived on the family estate in a cottage or a gatehouse or something like that with Angie.

There was zero evidence of friendships or relationships although he did stumble upon Sophie’s apparent foray into hating on the male sex. He remembered what she was like during that period. Sophie Marquez resembled her brother in that you had to have a screw loose to mess with her and think you’d survive unscathed.

Her vengeance was slow moving and silent, but he could tell from what he uncovered that she got hers and then some with any man foolish enough to fall under her spell. She was a bitch about it too, but he supposed after what she’d been through that was the only way for her to level the field.

Cam wondered who closest to Sophie knew that many years ago he, Alex, and Drae had laid down a vicious counterblow to the guy who escorted Sophie to the edge of her sanity and left her there. He assumed Cristián was aware, but it wasn’t something any of them wanted to discuss. There were things in life that were black, white, and absolute. A wrong had been committed, Sophie ended up damaged as a result, and someone had to pay.

Her path was easy to follow. His research revealed her Greek adventure. She’d planned extensively, dropped a ton of cash, and gone off to frolic in the Mediterranean sun. That was where Jace’s data initially intersects with hers.

The Delacroix report, the second of the printouts he held, was longer and more detailed.

Jean-Claude Delacroix was born with a platinum spoon in his mouth. He was the son of Philippe and Martine Delacroix. Philippe was a card-carrying socialite with a heavy portfolio of investments and real estate that was kind of mind-boggling.

His mom, Martine, was a bit of a c-word. Her story read like the pages from a who’s who of worldwide society columns. She came off like a social-climbing pro.

Jace was raised by nannies and educated at the best schools. He had several fancy degrees in business and the humanities. He went skiing in Switzerland, spent a college semester in Argentina to learn the business of breeding polo ponies, and summered in the American southwest at camps catering to the cowboy life.

Like Sophie, there was little evidence in his recent past of romantic relationships. Before coming to Arizona, the guy was a Euro-hipster without entanglements. For several years, his home base was in London at one of the Delacroix holdings where he garnered tons of praise from the financial world for his forward thinking.

And then something happened. Or a couple of somethings happened.

Cam supposed destiny had a hand in putting Jace and Sophie together on a Greek holiday. After that, the data points started to get wobbly. In pretty short order, Sophie embarked on a course of action that put her life on a totally different track. The funny thing was, though, in a way, so did Jace.

Five minutes after closing a mega-deal that essentially guaranteed Jace had little need of his inheritance, the guy folded his UK tent and paid his Paris-based parents a visit. Not long after that, he was unpacking in Bendover where he’d gone to take a stable job at the place where his cousin Remington Bisset worked.

When taken like that, in two separate arcs, a person might overlook a critical detail. A detail that didn’t seem to be significant. But the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that something was there.

At points in this weird Venn diagram, Sophie makes several excursions to a clinic outside Paris and a couple of months after that, she turns up in Bendover, pregnant, unmarried, and deliriously happy.

Sophie and Jace each insist on a stack of Holy Bibles that they parted ways at the airport in Santorini.

There was something there. All he had to do was figure out what.

In short order, Alex was at the door. Dylan lost his shit when his favorite uncle came to visit. They spent a few minutes in a rather serious discussion about building blocks and then Alex turned his attention to Cam.

“So. What’s so important?”

He handed Alex the two reports and waved him to the table. “Better sit down. I’ll make coffee while you read.”

Meghan had a serious urge to get out her smacking hand and flatten the bitchy twat masquerading as a local reporter. This time, she got the twat’s name. She was called Ivy, as in clinging, and there was no one she disliked more right now than this bitch.

Okay. Maybe she was too hasty. Delilah’s little assistant and her amazing boobs were also on her shit list.

Sophie was staring Ivy down in a back and forth exchange about privilege. As usual, the reporter was trying to frame every question as an attack on the center’s mission.

“Would you say that never having to worry about, well, anything,” Ivy sneered, “makes you an appropriate advocate for those less fortunate?”

“We believe in giving back. The Marquez family has a long history that, to our credit, is full of examples where the larger community was the focus of a lot of good. The elementary school was built by the Trust, and after the interstate opened in the 60s, it was the Trust that worked with the state to create the road system grid.”

Meghan was taking mental notes. Some of this she knew and some of it she didn’t.

A half an hour later, Sophia had coolly deflected the miserable woman’s ire and somehow managed to get her to smile with an observation about Ivy’s artistic Halloween manicure. She hung back when Sophie went the extra mile and escorted the reporter to her car, stopping first in the center’s lobby to grab a bunch of flyers for upcoming activities.

“You handled that well,” Meghan warmly offered with a bit of applause. “She rubs me the wrong way.”

Sophie acknowledged the assessment with a sneer. “I’ve got Ivy’s number now, don’t you worry. Daddy filled me in about her. She and her broomstick flew in under the radar, which is why she got a foot in the door to begin with. I’m filing this one under generational antagonism. She’s working off an old grudge between her people and Uncle Matt with a side of general hatred toward us. She’s not even from around here, so why she wants to crusade over something that’s so last century is a boring mystery. You leave her to me, Red.”

“I don’t know why she rattles my cage so much. It’s that condescending sarcasm. She made a crack about my sweater. Did you hear her? Calling it cute for plus size was kind of harsh.”

“Coming from someone wearing a recycled denim skirt, I don’t think she should be giving fashion advice.”

She knew Sophie was just trying to be nice, but her words fell flat. All Meghan could concentrate on were the words plus size.

“Change of subject. Congrats again on the win at Pete’s. Your picture goes on the wall in the Rogue’s Gallery. Nicely done, sis.”

“Daddy had a fit about me showing off like that, but what could I do?” She laughed, spread her arms wide, and shrugged. “When a challenge like that comes along, and I know without question that I’ve got the goods, well, there’s no way I’m turning that down. The trophy is going to look nice in the new house.”

“That trophy is tacky as hell but hey! To each his own, right?”

“Your brother is a snarky shit. He had those damn trophies custom made because he was so sure of the outcome.”

“That’s what happens when you use ringers to win.”

“All female,” Sophie reminded her. They smacked hands enthusiastically in a womanpower high five, and said, “Damn straight,” at the same time.

“How’s Zeus? Jace was really upset about what happened. It was one of his employees who strayed from the compound.”

“Oh god,” Meghan groaned. “It almost killed me to see her laying on a cold floor in the kennel. We took her home with Dr. Hunter’s instructions. I’m honestly afraid Alex might do something to that guy.”

“The way Jace tells it, he already did something. Punched the snot out of him.”

“Yeah. He did.” She shivered at the reminder. “Things are coming to a head. I can feel it. Alex doesn’t sleep even though he pretends otherwise. I went looking for him the other day and found him literally destroying a heavy bag in the gym. It was scary, Soph. He was like a machine.”

“Mr. Control Junkie has had enough, Meghan. I see it in his eyes. He’s sick of the games and the threats. What we should all be worrying about is what he’ll do when the shit starts flying. You never saw him during his war days. He was driven. Daddy calls it Alex’s demon—that fierce need to protect and defend. Sounds corny, I know, but that’s what runs through his veins. I feel no pity for the people behind the threats, but you have to know this isn’t going to be pretty, and I guarantee it won’t end well.”

“He jumped at the chance to be a stay-at-home dad today. I think the time he spends alone with the twins is what keeps him sane. What’s keeping him going.”

“What about you? Aren’t you a part of what keeps him sane?”

Sophie’s comment made Meghan squirm slightly. She looked at her sister-in-law. When they first met, she was struck by the feisty woman’s blunt directness. Suspecting the trait was part of healing from a ghastly betrayal, she sort of understood. In a way, they were kindred spirits.

“I’m not helping,” she said each word slowly.

Her sister-in-law was one cool customer. One brow rose and fell, but other than that, her face remained passive.

“I call bullshit,” she drawled. “Alex can’t find his head without you, and I’m not blowing happiness up your skirt. It’s true, so whatever nonsense you’re listening to in your head, let’s try to shut that down, shall we? Now tell me what’s got you doubting.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt him, Soph. Never! He’s wonderful. The babies adore him. It’s me. I’m the weak link in the Marquez chain.” She hung her head and sighed.

“I admire you, Red. The way you blew in here and grabbed hold of what you wanted and never let go? That’s good stuff, lady. There isn’t anyone here who doesn’t think you’re the tits and the balls, so if you’re the weak link, then I’m in serious trouble because I’ve been wearing that hat for longer than I’m comfortable admitting.”

“I haven’t always been so … together.”

Sophie sat there and stared at her for a good long time. “Thank you,” she finally said. “Thank you for not being perfect.”

Before Meghan could respond, her sister-in-law stood and came to her with her arms out. Meghan also stood and fell into the sisterly embrace.

“I have an idea. What do you say if every couple of weeks, we leave the kids with their daddies and you and I have a girls’ night? Parker and Alex hang out at a steakhouse when they have their boys’ nights, so why can’t we do something similar? I think it’ll be good for both of us. Something tells me we could both use someone to talk to. About stuff.”

Stuff, Meghan thought. What a great choice of words.

Cam couldn’t stop from laughing as he snapped one picture after another at the Double M costume parade. There were some mighty clever homemade getups mixed in with the usual assortment of princess and superhero store-bought stuff.

His favorite was the astonishing sight of Domineau dressed like Elsa from that Disney movie Bella and Molly could never get enough of. She was so perfectly made up that every little girl at the event flocked to her like kids to a well-done mall Santa. Seeing Smoke as a kind of kid Pied Piper was fucking surreal.

Paul Winston was glued to him. The kid turned out to be a budding filmmaker with an eagerness to learn everything he could about photography and the art of storytelling with visuals.

A film crew climbed out of a van emblazoned with a colorful wrap advertising Bendover Lifestyles™. Cam watched them set up for a remote.

He’d previously met the woman behind the show when she approached him about using some of his photos. Saying a quick hello to Bernie Apples, he then talked the ear off the camera guy. Paul stood by his side, taking in every word.

After they walked away, Paul asked a number of interesting questions that got Cam probing for the source of the kid’s interest. The boy chimed in with the perfect lead-in when he asked, “So what do they do with the remote shots?”

“It’s the background stuff you see in a story. Usually with a voice-over. Random scenes that help explain the reporter’s words. You understand what background means, right?”

Paul nodded. “Sure.”

“It’s that simple. Like, what’s in your background that makes you interested in this stuff?”

“It’s what kids do.” He laughed. “Video is where it’s at, Mr. Cameron. My friend Toby has a YouTube channel.”

Cam was shocked to hear this. These kids were too young for such exposure. “What kind of channel?” he asked in a dad voice.

Paul rolled his eyes. “It’s okay. He and his dad make videos and post ’em.”

It took thirty seconds to fire up his phone and bring up YouTube. He handed Paul the phone. “Show me.”

“Sure! Wait till you see!” Paul’s thumbs moved like wildfire, and in no time, they were watching a very clever video about model airplanes.

“That’s his uncle,” Paul explained as Toby interviewed a model maker.

“So this is stuff you like?”

The kid shrugged and half-laughed. “It’s a cool way to learn stuff. People make how-to videos all the time. Before I came here, my friends and I made a video, and I made one for my grandmother.”

He liked the boy’s energy. Something about Paul Winston was quietly cool. Although buttoned up and proper beneath the surface, Cam suspected he was a thoroughly modern kid.

“Do you think a Saturday workshop for kids and parents might be a good idea? I like what your friend did.”

Paul responded soberly, and Cam took notice. “Not every kid has parents. Make it kid and adult. That way a big brother or an aunt could be the grown-up.”

The past whooshed in and grabbed Cam by the throat. He knew all about being the kid with no parents, and the reminder made him regard Paul differently. His parents were gone, but he had grandparents who stepped up. He’d never wander through the foster care system or end up emotionally terrorized, angry, and alone.

Sobered by his train of thoughts, he looked at Paul, saw himself at the same age, and the differences were horrifying. Cam would have killed for an adult to take an interest in him. Maybe it would have made a difference.

“You know what, Paul? I’m going to talk to the people in charge of programming at the community center. And how about if you help me put together a presentation to sell them on the idea. What do you think?”

“Wow, Mr. Cameron,” he exclaimed. “Are you kidding? Why, that’d be so cool.”

Cam smiled. Looked like he just made a new friend.