“Well, we both know where to start,” I said.

Ryan nodded, sipping his wine. “Yeah. My mother.”

“Or…” My mind whizzed rapidly. “Since your mother hasn’t been forthcoming, and we never know whether she’s telling the truth…”

“But you said yourself that she always knows what she’s saying, whether it’s the truth or a lie.”

“True, but that doesn’t really help us because we don’t always know the reasons behind why she says what she says. We can try Larry Wade again, but honestly, I’m not sure he’s been privy to some of the stuff that my father, Simpson, and Wendy have cooked up.”

“I’ve gotten that same feeling,” Ryan said, “and Talon always maintained that Larry was more of a follower of the other two. Oh my God!”

“What?” I asked.

“I can’t believe I forgot about this. Remember the last time we saw Larry, and you came back in, saying you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah.”

“I had been asking Larry about the symbol on Simpson’s ring. On all of their rings. Of course, he refused to talk about it, but then he said something interesting. He said, ‘I understand why you would want to know. The devil is in the details. Just ask your mother.’”

I dropped my mouth open. “So maybe Bryce’s uncle was right. Maybe it was a symbol for evil.”

“Melanie always said that Larry talks in riddles. It seems weird that he would use that cliché while we were talking about the ring unless he meant something.”

I sighed. “I wish I could say any of this was surprising, but I’ve known for a long time just how evil my father is.”

“But my father,” Ryan said. “My father also wore that ring.”

“We don’t know for sure that he even understood what the symbol meant.”

He lowered his brows. “My father would have known. Or he would’ve asked.”

“You don’t know that, Ryan. And even if he did ask, they might have lied to him.”

“A couple of months ago, baby, I might’ve bought that. But no longer. My father was clearly into this, maybe not as deeply as the others, but he was. Hell, he gave them money.”

“Did you have any success uncovering his will?” I asked.

“No. We haven’t found it yet. Joe is going to contact the attorney who read it to us. But if my father has paid him off, it may not do any good.”

I took his hand across the table. “We will figure this out. We’ve come this far. I promise you I won’t quit until my father is behind bars where he deserves to be.”

He finished the second glass of wine. “I know you won’t quit. I know my brothers won’t either. But I…” He sighed. “I don’t know how much more I can take of this.”

He looked sad and forlorn. I understood why. He had come to me tonight, needing me, and I had given him what he needed. It clearly hadn’t been enough. Even I knew enough to know that sex couldn’t fix someone’s problems. It could relieve a little bit of stress, but that was about it. I rubbed the top of his hand. “The glass is probably cleaned up by now. Let’s go to the room and go to bed. Things will be brighter in the morning.”

He attempted a smile but failed. “I love you, Ruby. I do. But I don’t know if things will ever be bright again.”

---

After a busy day at the office, I was getting ready to head back to the hotel that Ryan had booked for the week. My cell phone buzzed.

“Detective Lee.”

“It’s me. Shayna.”

I looked around the office. Most of the staff and officers had taken off for the evening. I was alone and could speak freely. “Shayna. Are you all right?”

“I still think I’m being followed sometimes. It could be my imagination.”

“It could be.” Though I didn’t believe it. But I didn’t want to alarm her.

“I got another text.” She choked back a sob. “It just said ‘help.’”

“Did it come from a number?”

“No. It just said private.”

“Shayna, this is the second time this has happened. Please, I need your permission to access your phone records. We can figure out what’s going on.”

“I’m…scared.”

“These messages came to your cell phone number, correct? The one you blocked me on?”

“Yes.”

Good. I had that number. “Look. If you think this came from Juliet and Lisa, we owe it to them to look into it.”

“I know. I know. I’m just so scared. So frightened.”

“I understand. Haven’t the police been out to talk to you? I’ve called them.”

“They have, but I don’t know much, and I’m—”

The line went dead.

Shit. “Shayna? Shayna?”

No use. I quickly traced the number. It was a pay phone at a gas station in East LA. I called the LAPD—again—and told them what had happened. I didn’t expect them to do anything, but I had to try.

Then my phone buzzed again.