Dallas knew the Kallings were wealthy. He imagined them as well off enough to eat at fancy restaurants and upgrade their cars whenever they pleased. But it wasn’t until he and Harlan pulled up to the family home that he realized they were a whole different level of rich. An empire. Billionaires.

“Nice place,” he chuckled as they stepped out of the car. “Why in the hell would your brother enlist in the military if he had a place like this?”

“Emmitt was lost most of his life. It was one arrest after another. The family name got him off a few times, but eventually he knew he’d die if he stayed around here much longer. Or my mother would die of shame. She takes reputation very seriously. My father had already damaged it; Emmitt was making it worse. You seem to forget money doesn’t solve all your problems.”

“Right,” Dallas replied, sounding unconvinced. His father had been a very wealthy man. A media mogul who struck it rich by discovering a few actresses who stayed loyal to him during their careers. The only problem was, his mother, Mary Sue, wasn’t cut out for the life of the rich and famous, opting instead to live pay check to pay check with her three sons in South Boston. And his dad never looked back.

“I meant to warn you about my mother,” Harlan said sheepishly enough to worry Dallas for a moment until he remembered.

“I’ve read the bio on every member of the family,” he reassured. “I know your mother has OCD. Some of her triggers include people wearing red and the volume on the television being set at a level that bothers her. I’ll be honest, I don’t have much experience with it, but I read a little on the diagnosis. I’ll be as sensitive as possible.”

“Right,” Harlan said, looking at first relieved and then annoyed. “You have a bio on everyone in the family? Even me?”

“Especially you,” he grinned. “Yours was eight pages long if I remember. Your brothers put it together and no detail was spared. Favorite color, allergies, where you spent your summers as a child. That birthmark on your lower back, kind of over to the left.”

“They put that in there?”

“No,” he laughed. “I saw that for myself last night when you took your dress off.”

Harlan’s mouth snapped shut as she fought a smile and pushed her way through the front door.

“Girls,” she called happily down the hall. “I’m back.”

Thundering feet came pounding down the long curved staircase. There were only two, but the way they rushed forward created a blur of pigtails and rosy cheeks. Dallas had been shadowing Harlan and her daughters for nearly a week before she knew he’d been hired. It was a delicate balance, trying to keep them safe without intruding on the tiny simple moments that make up life. He’d watched her carry all their dance gear to the car and load them all in, never complaining. One daughter needed a boo-boo kissed while the other got her hair braided. His own mother had been a saint, but he’d been too young and dumb to appreciate what it took to raise children alone. There seemed so little of Harlan left when she was done giving herself away.

“Anna and Logan, this is Dallas,” Harlan explained as she squeezed the girls tightly in her arms. “He’s going to be doing some work with Mom for a little while in the study if you girls want to stay here a while longer.”

They cheered and squealed as they argued over who would get the next turn playing with grandma’s jewelry.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Dallas said, crouching to their level. “Your mom tells me you are both very nice girls.”

“Are you mom’s boyfriend?” Anna asked as casually as someone might inquire about the time of day. As though the answer would be as finite and as simple as letting her know it was three o’clock.

“Anna,” Harlan scolded, giving her a very serious look. “I’ve asked you not to ask that of every man we come across. Remember when you asked Mr. Lonson at the grocery store? His wife wasn’t too happy about that.”

Dallas couldn’t hold back his laugh. “I’m just a friend of your mom. She’s helping me with something important. It’s a big job.”

“My mom doesn’t do that,” Logan said in her squeaky little voice as she furrowed her brows. “She doesn’t do work.”

Harlan stuffed back any evidence that the words wounded her. Like a good mother she smiled and brushed back her daughter’s wispy bangs.

“I don’t know,” Dallas said thoughtfully. “Does your mom make ham and cheese sandwiches? Does she drive you around? Give you a bath? Tuck you in? Read you stories? Does she play with you and teach you things? Those sound like pretty important jobs. And she’s going to help me do some police work tonight. I don’t know what I’d do if she wasn’t here to work with me.”

“Really?” Anna asked, looking impressed at her mother’s responsibilities for the night.

“Yes,” Dallas reiterated, “you’re lucky to have her, and tonight I am too.”

“You guys go and play. Tell Grandma I’ll be upstairs to see her soon. I’ll bring up sandwiches.”

The girls planted kisses on her cheek and scuttled off as fast as they’d arrived.

“You didn’t have to say all that,” Harlan offered quietly. “Kids don’t ever really appreciate all that small stuff we do.”

“They don’t,” Dallas agreed. “I know I didn’t. I wish I had. I didn’t get to say it to my mother, but I’m glad you heard it. You have the means to never have to really lift a finger for them, but you do it all. I know you aren’t happy I was assigned to you without you knowing I was there. That can’t be very comfortable for you. But know that when I was on duty, it was refreshing to see your relationship with your daughters. You’re doing a great job.”

Tears filled Harlan’s eyes alarmingly fast, unsettling them both. “I . . . um, thanks,” she stuttered out as she whipped at her eyes. “They make it easy. They’re such good girls.”

“Do I get the crust cut off my sandwich again?” Dallas teased, trying to add some levity to the heavy moment.

“We’ll see,” she said, waving him to follow her into the study. “I apparently have some very serious police work to do first. Where do we even start?”

“Where do you want to start?” He shrugged. “You’re the fresh eyes. Maybe it’s better for you to take this where you want.”

“Tell me again who you wanted to kill,” she said as they sunk into the plush leather chairs separated by a small glass table with intricate metal woven around the legs. The room was dim, but intentionally so. The shades were tightly shut, and the wood on the desk and bookcases was all deep mahogany. A few small lamps sat in the corners of the room but provided very little light.

“Larry Monroe,” Dallas said, knowing his entire demeanor changed as he uttered the familiar name. A sour taste filled his mouth as he thought through the damage one idiot could do.

“Who is he?”

“The one witness who testified against Tim. He’s a guy who’s done his share of petty crimes and pointed the finger at Tim. The police had tunnel vision and never chased down any other leads. Larry had been picked up about a month and a half after the murder. He’d been caught breaking and entering some pawnshop. Apparently he told the arresting officer he knew where the body of a restaurant owner, Angus Durrah, was and who’d killed him.”

“That’s pretty convenient.”

“At that point Angus was just some missing person case sitting in a file somewhere. His wife had reported him missing the night he didn’t come home from closing the restaurant. Monroe led them to the body and told them Tim had killed him.”

“That can’t possibly be enough to convict someone,” Harlan said with wide disbelieving eyes. “That’s just hearsay isn’t it? There must have been more to it.”

“The case was weak,” Dallas said, raising his voice defensively. “There were no forensics linking Tim to the scene, no other witnesses, no one else saying they heard Tim talking about committing a murder. It was Larry spinning some story, and they were desperate to close the case. They took him at his word.”

“Where was Tim that night?” Harlan asked hesitantly, and Dallas could hardly blame her. If he didn’t know Tim so well it would be hard to believe someone could be put away for life if they were truly innocent.

“Tell me where you were the first Tuesday of this month in the afternoon,” Dallas challenged. “You can look at your phone, check your calendar on it. Whatever you need to do. Where were you?”

“Um,” Harlan said, pulling out her phone. “Well, on Tuesday we have dance class for Anna after school.”

“And you’re sure you went that week?” Dallas asked. “Did you go anywhere before or after? Account for the entire afternoon.”

“One day that week Anna had a cough, so we skipped dance. But I’m not positive which day it was. Usually before we go to dance we’ll stop at the library and drop off some books.”

“Did you that day?” Dallas pressed on.

“I can’t say for sure,” Harlan replied, but she still didn’t look completely convinced.

“Most people couldn’t account for a full afternoon a month and half later. Then add in the stress and anxiety of getting arrested out of the blue and being interrogated about it. They kept him in there for nine hours.”

“But wait,” Harlan said, seeming to suddenly connect some dots. “Larry didn’t just pick some random guy to accuse of murder. He must have known Tim, right?”

“Yes,” Dallas said tentatively. “They met in juvie when they were younger. Tim felt some kind of obligation to stay in touch with Larry over the years. He was like that. Always thinking he could be around to help when people needed him.”

“The speech about Mother Theresa Tim, who you know beyond a shadow of a doubt could never do anything wrong, feels a little weak now. Unless you want to tell me he was in juvie volunteering with his church group or something. Otherwise I have to wonder if maybe your perception of Tim might be different from reality.” Harlan leaned back and folded her arms across her chest as though it was now up to Dallas to convince her otherwise.

“He wasn’t guilty then either,” Dallas said, knowing how pathetic that sounded. “Don’t make that face at me.”

“I’m sorry.” Harlan shrugged. “I’ve got to be honest. I think you might be blinded by friendship.”

“Tim was arrested when we were sixteen. But I was the one who should have been. I got caught up with a bad group for a while, and one night we were going to steal a bunch of beer from a restaurant one of the kids worked at. Tim found out and showed up to talk me out of it. The cops came when we triggered the silent alarm, and we all ran. Tim was the one who got caught. I told him I’d face up to it and tell the truth, but he knew the cops wouldn’t believe he was innocent. Tim told me there was no point in both of us paying when only one of us had to. He did six months and that’s where he met Larry.”

“I’m sorry,” Harlan said. “I was wrong. You aren’t blinded by friendship. You’re riddled with guilt. That’s what’s screwing you up.”

“Neither,” Dallas said, shaking his head. “The only reason I’m not letting Tim rot in jail is because he’s innocent.”

“I’m not really in a position to agree with you, considering I don’t know him, or any more about the case. I’m along for the ride though. To make sure I’ve got it all, Angus Durrah goes missing. A month and a half later the cops pick up Larry for some robbery charge, and he tells them he knows where a body is buried and who killed the guy. They pick up Tim and interrogate him and what? He can’t come up with an alibi?”

“He was home for most of the afternoon that Larry says he was out murdering Angus. Tim lives alone and couldn’t completely account for the rest of the day. Do you know why?”

Harlan shook her head, awaiting his explanation.

“Because it was a normal day like any other. Nothing of any consequence happened that day and on days like that you don’t remember where you were every minute. The cops tried everything to crack him. He was rattled, but he never once gave any indication he was involved.”

“And you’ve chased down the leads yourself? You’ve tried to corroborate his alibi on your own?” Harlan scratched down a few notes.

“Of course,” Dallas replied, feeling attacked even though that wasn’t her intention. That’s how it was those days, if you weren’t one hundred percent with him, you were the enemy, and it was destroying his life. But seeing the problem and fixing it were two very different things. “There’s just nothing there. The last people to see Tim were a bank teller and the guy who sells newspapers on the corner at about noon. Then there’s no trace of him. He went home and stayed in the rest of the day.”

“So you won’t be able to prove him innocent,” Harlan said with such definiteness it felt like a blow to his chest. It wasn’t as though he was relying on Harlan to be the hero to this case. The odds that she could find a trail he hadn’t already traced were slim. But he did think she’d be open-minded enough to hang around a while and keep him from going mad.

That thought was dashed now as she stood and leaned on the large wooden desk in front of him. “If you can’t account for where he was, and a jury already determined one witness’s testimony was enough, you don’t have enough to prove it wasn’t him. You don’t have what it takes to get a new trial, even if Melissa is still holding out hope.”

Dallas shot to his feet, angry to hear another person give up on something he knew deserved every ounce of energy he had. “Remind me not to let you on my jury if I’m ever wrongfully convicted. I should get going. You’ve got sandwiches to make, and I’ve got to help Tim.”

“Don’t get all worked up,” Harlan demanded, catching his tense arm before he could fly out the door of the study. “We can’t prove him innocent, so we have to prove someone else guilty. A jury convicted him because they were told one version of a story and believed it. We’ve got to find a different version and make sure there’s enough evidence to exonerate Tim. Let’s not find evidence to exclude Tim; let’s catch a killer.”

Harlan stood there, a determination in her eyes that nearly matched his own. It wasn’t defeat she was declaring; it was war. War against whoever committed this crime.

The intensity and surprise on his face was enough to make her slowly drop her hand from his arm. He suddenly looked self-conscious and nervous. She was searching his expression but before she could figure out what her words had meant to him, he was on the move. His lips were crushing down on hers. His body pressing her to the desk as he wrapped a hand in her long dark hair. The kiss was hungry and frantic. The start of something wild and animalistic. Dallas raised a hand to the buttons on her shirt ready to rip them free when a thud overhead startled them both.

“The girls,” Harlan whispered, her lips centimeters from his, but it felt like miles. “We can’t.”

“Of course,” Dallas agreed, releasing his tight grip on her and clearing his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Just be sorry you have to leave me feeling like this,” she said coyly as she licked her lips seductively. “Be sorry I’m dying for more.”

“Trust me,” he said, sitting back in the large leather chair. “I’m damn sorry about that.”