Tori bit her lips, seemed to search for the right answer.

“Just tell me what you remember,” Kerri urged.

“We had dinner.” She thought some more. “Then cookies and milk later.”

“Did Alice’s aunt make you cookies and milk?”

Tori shrugged. “Alice brought them into her room on a tray. Three cups of milk and a small plate of cookies.”

Another knot tied in Kerri’s stomach. “Was it after you ate the cookies and milk that she started the ritual?”

Tori nodded. “A little while later, yeah.”

Anger unfurled inside Kerri. “I need you to listen carefully to me, Tori.”

She blinked, searched Kerri’s eyes.

“I want you to do your best to avoid Alice, okay?”

Uncertainty stole over her daughter’s face. “But she’ll be mad at me.”

“Possibly,” Kerri said, “but I think it’s really important that you stay as far away from Alice as possible. If she says anything to you, just tell her you’re not feeling well, and you don’t want her to catch whatever you have.”

It was an old reliable excuse.

“She won’t believe me.” Tori picked at her cuticles.

“You could stay with Diana and just skip the rest of the week. I’m sure—”

“No way!” Tori shot to her feet. “Then everyone will think the rumors are true. That I hurt Brendal and I’m staying home because I’m guilty.”

“Tori.” Kerri clasped her hands in her lap to prevent reaching for her. She knew her daughter well enough to know that look. She did not want her mother touching her or treating her like a baby at the moment. “You are not guilty of anything. I know you and I trust you. I need you to trust me.”

“What if I did?” She wilted back down onto the couch. “What if I accidentally pushed her?”

Terror chilled Kerri’s veins. “Do you think you pushed her?”

Tori shook her head. “No. But other people do.”

“Sometimes other people can be hurtful when they’re unsure of something. They get scared and try to find someone to blame.”

Tori rubbed her hands over her face, then clasped them together in her lap. “I’m just so . . . I feel like I can’t remember, and I’m scared.”

Kerri pulled her close, hugged her, and struggled not to let the tears slip past her lashes. “Sometimes I get scared too, sweetie. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

Tori pulled back and looked her mom in the eyes. “I hope so.”

“That day,” Kerri ventured, “did Alice bring any cookies or a snack of some sort from home?”

Tori frowned, concentrating. “I can’t remember. Maybe. She used to do that a lot. Alice said her aunt was trying extra hard to be like a real mom.”

“You think about it,” Kerri said. “If you remember something, let me know, okay? It could be important.”

Tori nodded. “I will.”

The doorbell rang. Kerri smiled. “Come on. That’s the food. Later we can have ice cream.”

“With M&M’S?”

“Definitely.”

Kerri wished ice cream and M&M’S would make everything better.

She wasn’t sure anything could, but she refused to give up trying.

20

9:00 p.m.

Chez Fonfon

Eleventh Avenue South

Birmingham

Mason sat at the bar, perfectly positioned to watch the entrance.

Leland Walsh had asked for a private meeting. Mason had no problem with giving the man a few minutes of his time. After all, Walsh had just lost his son. The issue would likely be what the man expected from the meeting.

If he’d asked for this meeting for the same reason she had, there wasn’t much to tell. At this time, he had nothing new regarding the investigation. At least nothing the man would want to hear.

Walsh entered and glanced around. Mason didn’t bother raising a hand to call his attention to the bar. The hostess would bring him over. Mason had tipped her well for the trouble.

Walsh glanced at Mason, then headed his way. Mason had done his homework on Leland Walsh. His firm took no prisoners when it came to courtroom battles. He was accustomed to winning and to having those around him do as he asked without question. Though Mason had never met him before, he knew his sort. The sort who thought he ruled his slice of the world. Anyone who blocked his path was to be removed by whatever means necessary.

“Agent Cross.” Walsh approached Mason’s position and extended his hand.

“Mr. Walsh.” Mason shook his hand, then gestured to the stool next to him. “Please join me. I’ll order you a drink.”

Walsh slid onto the stool. “Bourbon. Neat.”

Mason nodded to the bartender and placed the order. When the bourbon had arrived, he kicked off the conversation by reaffirming what he’d already said after the task force briefing. “I am genuinely sorry for your loss.”

Walsh nodded. “So am I. So am I.” He downed his drink. “But there’s one thing I recognized in Asher.” He turned to Mason. “Whatever he decided to do in life, he was not going to be stopped. Unfortunately, this attitude may have been the death of him.”

Mason hummed a note of understanding. “I have a daughter exactly like that. There’s no changing her mind once it’s made up.” He gestured to the empty glass. “Would you care for another?”

Walsh placed his hand over his glass. “I’m not going to waste your time, Agent Cross. I want this investigation into my son’s murder over as quickly as possible.”

Mason stared into his own glass, considered throwing back the contents but decided to hold off for a bit. Where had he heard this before? Just further indication of how jumpy everyone had grown. “I can assure you I’m doing all within my power for a speedy closure.”

“I saw the medical examiner’s report. I do not want that information to become public knowledge. My wife is already devastated. I don’t want her hurt further by learning about the cocaine.”

Strange. Mason had expected the man to insist his son would never be involved with drugs. Perhaps he had overestimated the man’s grief. Or perhaps his need to protect the family’s reputation simply outweighed the grief. “It’s possible the report could come into evidence if there’s a trial. I have no control over what the district attorney does with evidence. However, I don’t expect a trial.”