Ana kept her cool even after they’d searched the house and confirmed that Tilly had been taken. There were signs of a struggle in the master bedroom, but mercifully no blood.

“Rick Parker could’ve killed her here, if that was his plan,” she said flatly, picking up Tilly’s cell phone from the nightstand and searching through it. “Could’ve made it look like a burglary gone bad. She talked him out of it, maybe gave him information that made her valuable. She conned him. It’ll keep her alive for a while. Let’s go.”

“Hey.” He caught her by the shoulders before she moved past him and looked down at her face. Recognizing her fierce determination to keep her emotions at bay, he settled for a soft kiss to her brow.

“Jake—”

“We both needed that. Now we can go.”

They went downstairs and were almost out the front door, when Ana stepped on something that crunched beneath her black running shoes. Crouching, she examined the broken glass; then she found its source lying on the floor just inside the door.

“This shouldn’t be here,” she said, straightening. “Mom has kept this photo on her side of the bed forever.”

Jake took it from her, looking at the yellowed image through the cracked glass.

Her mouth curved in a smile. “That photo was taken the day my dad proposed, after they left the bank and took a stroll on the boardwalk. It’s a message she knew I would understand. Mom’s leading Rick to Atlantic City.”

His brows arched. “Isn’t that a big leap?”

“Trust me,” Ana insisted. “The minute he went along with whatever story she sold him, it became her show. She’s running it. We just need to catch up with them, before he figures that out.”

As they drove east on 422, Ana pulled out her laptop and began typing furiously. Jake watched her out of the corner of his eye. Reaching over, he slid his hand beneath her hair and stroked her nape with his fingers.

He was so damn glad to be able to touch her again. To be able to smell her and hear her, to have her nearby to look at. She was keeping him sane instead of frantic with worry over Eric.

She looked at him, her face made stark by her grimness and the shadows of night. “Frankie will take care of Eric. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not just Eric I’m worried about.” He tugged gently on her hair.

“I can’t think about that. I can’t lose it. Not now.”

“Okay, so we’ll keep your mind off it. Do you travel a lot?”

“Yes, but that’s because there was nothing to keep me home. I won’t so much now.” She returned her attention to her laptop screen. “The good citizens of Whisper Creek will have to get used to seeing me around again.”

“Is that where you want to live?”

Her gaze shot to him again. “The last time I checked that’s where you lived, right?”

“I stayed because it kept me close to your family. I was afraid if I moved away, I might lose touch with you altogether.” He shrugged. “Don’t look so horrified. There wasn’t any place I had a burning desire to get to and Eric needed the stability of staying in one place. But my job can take me anywhere—you know that.”

“You’d do that?” she asked quietly.

“I’d do anything for you, Anastasia. You make me a happy man.”

Ana was quiet for a few moments, then, “You know how my parents got engaged? They met in Atlantic City. My mom was running an insurance scam and my dad was hustling old stuff. She wanted to get her hands on his antiques and he wanted to get a fraudulent payout. They played each other for a few weeks, then they agreed to meet at a local bank where he was supposed to show the goods for appraisal—he pulled an engagement ring and a bottle of Dom Perignon out of the safe deposit box instead.”

“Your dad proposed in a bank?”

“Surrounded by other people’s safeguarded valuables—absolutely the perfect venue for my parents. They’d been onto each other almost from the first, but for them the game was their version of flirting and dating. That’s what my family is like, Jake. And I don’t see them ever changing.”

“I’m not running scared, Anastasia. If it takes a few decades or a lifetime, you’ll eventually figure that out.”

Shaking her head, Ana got back to work.

The sky over the turnpike was lightening when Ana answered a check-in call from Frankie.

“Hey,” she said quietly, achingly aware of the block of ice in her gut. “I got an email from Detective Samuels in New York—Terence Parker passed away an hour ago.”

“Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. Terry. Jesus. He was a good guy, you know? He didn’t deserve to go out like that.”

“Have you heard from Rick?”

“Yeah.” Frankie took a deep breath. “And he let me talk to Mom. She sounded okay. Not scared at all. And you were right about Atlantic City—that’s where he wants to do the swap. Eric’s texting the address to Jake’s cell now. I told Rick I’d have to talk to Mom directly before the meet or I wouldn’t show up, and I said we wanted to get out of town before nine.”

“Good. You’re doing real good.” She shoved a hand through her hair and said what was weighing heavily on her mind. “Frankie, you and Eric... You need to be working on a Plan B.”

Jake cursed. “Ana, damn it!”

She glanced at him and kept talking. “When we turn Rick in, he’s going to turn state’s evidence to get some leniency on the murder charge.”

Frankie’s voice was as serious as she’d ever heard it. “We’re considering our options, Ana. Don’t worry about us. Take care of Mom.”

The moment she killed the call, Jake went off. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I’d like to salvage as much from this mess as I can. The store is going to get its gems back, Terence’s killer is going to be apprehended, and I’m not going to take the finder’s fee from the insurance company for obvious reasons. Putting Eric and Frankie in jail isn’t going to bring the injured parties any more justice or restitution than that.”

She grabbed his phone from his lap and took the address of the meet from his text messages and typed it into the GPS.

He glared at her. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Yes. Think about it, Jake. Think hard. When all’s said and done, we’ll go from there.”

The meet was at a rundown motel in a depressed, forgotten corner of Atlantic City. It seemed worlds away from the boardwalk and tourist mecca. The signs and architecture of the buildings were decades past their prime. Time and the sun had faded what color might have distinguished features before.

Ana wondered if her mother knew this place from its heyday. What had led Rick here? The convenience of exterior walkways and parking directly in front of the room doors? Was that enough to negate the fact that the bank was on the far side of town?

Whatever the reason, she’d valet parked her car at the Mondego Resort for safekeeping before picking up a rental to get to the dive motel. Then she and Jake had split up—he waited in the car down the street, while she holed up in a dingy room that smelled like an ashtray and old sweat. They waited for the call from Frankie that would put everything in motion.

“Room 105,” he said the second she answered her cell phone.

“All right,” Ana said. “I’m going to head out with the ice bucket. I’ll be nearby as you approach the door. Go up alone and make him come outside. Tell him Eric’s watching from a safe distance and has the diamonds. If Rick wants to prove his trustworthiness, he’ll step out. He’ll probably leave Mom in the room for safekeeping. Jake’ll drive around back to the bathroom window and see if he can get to her. You with me so far?”

“Yes.”

Ana appreciated hearing the quiet strength in her brother’s voice. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

She didn’t have to tell him not to look at her too long or too often, or worse, not look at her at all—anything that would point her out as suspicious. Frankie was a pro. Shoving her gun into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back, Ana yanked her top over it and grabbed the ice bucket. She left the room, gratefully breathing in the fresh air outside.

Texting Jake as she went, Ana walked across the crumbling parking lot of the U-shaped single-story motel. She felt her pulse steady when Frankie knocked on the motel room door—she was never calmer then when a game was in play.

“Jesus, Rick,” she heard Frankie say when the door opened. “You look like shit.”

“Fucking bastard! You cut me out! Cut Terry out! Where the fuck is Monroe? Where’re my fucking diamonds?”

Ana slipped into an alcove that led to a maintenance/housekeeping door and pressed her back up against the wall. Rick was erratic; his breathing was heavy and his voice far too loud. It made Ana nuts to think of her mom having to spend the last few hours with him and as the conversation between Rick and her brother progressed, she grew more and more uneasy.

“Don’t fuck with me, Miller, you slimy piece of shit,” Rick snapped. “Do I look like an idiot? Do I? I’m not going outside and swapping diamonds where anyone can shoot pictures! Tell Monroe to get his ass over here now!”

“What the hell do I need pictures for? If I had the heat out here, you’d already be done. You’ve got a kidnapped woman in your room and you’re a murderer.”

“Bullshit. I never—”

“Terry’s dead,” Frank said flatly.

The unmistakable thud of flesh hitting flesh got Ana’s back up. She withdrew her gun.

“Goddammit, Terry—” Frankie stumbled back from the door and into Ana’s line of sight. His hand was pressed to his lip, blood trickling between his fingers. Staying where he was, he forced Rick to follow him out into the parking lot.

“Liar! You’re a fucking liar, Miller.” Rick stumbled into daylight with bare feet and rumbled clothes. His blond hair was disheveled and he gestured wildly with his hands. “You’ve been lying from the beginning. Setting everything up. I told Terry you were going to jack us and you did! Who killed him? You or Monroe?”