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the name of the man who brought her in and sets everything up. His name is Alex Angler.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Not much. I’ll work on it tonight and send you an email as soon as I have something.”

“I appreciate it. I’ll check in later.” He climbed behind the steering wheel and contemplated calling Shannon, but what would he say? He’d wait until he had more or until he saw her in person.

Jackson spent half the night combing the streets for a drug addict and her kid and found nothing but reminders of why he shouldn’t be looking for Shannon’s daughter. It didn’t matter that he knew that Shannon’s motivations were pure. She wouldn’t intentionally harm her daughter, but just coming into her kid’s life could cause a ripple effect of emotions that couldn’t be stopped.

However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the idea that what had happened to Belinda and her new boyfriend and their crazy, weird sex ring was somehow related to Shannon’s uncle.

And maybe the reason Shannon had given up her daughter.

Or had gotten pregnant in the first place.

Not to mention, Shannon’s father and the cold, harsh words that Jeromy had spoken about Dwight Brendel.

Jackson swallowed the bile that smacked the back of his throat as he pulled into the shared driveway and his parking spot next to Shannon’s SUV. The sun peeked out over the mountains, turning the night sky into morning. He slipped from behind the steering wheel, surprised to see Shannon standing on the dock in front of Sweet Freedom.

Stuffing his keys into his pocket, he adjusted his cowboy hat and made his way down the path. If he’d gotten an hour’s worth of sleep, it would have been a miracle. He would need to rest his eyes for a few hours at some point, but for now, he needed to have this chat with Shannon. He hoped he had the energy for it, because it wasn’t going to be pretty.

She glanced over her shoulder as his feet hit the wooden planks.

“Did you get any sleep? You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said with a smile. “I might have dozed off for a few minutes here or there in my car.”

“Now I feel terrible for asking you to go looking for Lilly.”

“Don’t. I’m happy to help.” He ran a hand up and down her forearm. “We have a lot to talk about, and I don’t want to do it standing on this dock.” He tilted his head toward the aft of his boat.

Her eyes went wide, and she shook her head.

“Why not? It’s just a sailboat. It doesn’t bite.”

“Actually, it does.” She plopped herself onto the dock and dangled her feet in the water.

“Do you want to tell me what happened that makes you so afraid of sailboats?” he asked.

“I’m not afraid of them. It’s just not something I enjoy.”

“I’m not asking you to go sailing. Just to have a seat on the stern where it’s more comfortable.” Jackson rubbed his chin, and his mind continued to form a picture that soured his belly and squeezed his heart.

“I’m comfortable right here,” she said. “I take it you didn’t find Lilly.”

“No sign of her or her mother anywhere. Not a single one of her mother’s old friends has heard from her.”

“That’s disturbing,” Shannon said. “That’s usually the first place addicts go, even with a kid in tow.”

“I know.” Jackson kicked off his boots, tugged off his socks, rolled up his jeans, and joined her on the dock, wishing he could talk her into his plush stern sofa. But he wouldn’t push that today. Not when he was about to poke a different bear, and especially not before he told her he’d found her daughter. “Katie is still pounding the pavement.”

“I feel like I’m using you and your business partner.”

He looped his arm around her waist. “We’re invested in this case in more ways than one.”

“What does that mean?”

“There are a lot of moving parts that don’t seem to be connected but are.” He had no idea how to approach the subject. He suspected that she’d dealt with the pains of her childhood, considering she was a therapist who specialized in addiction, though her ritual and her inability to board his boat spoke volumes. “For example, your uncle Ned and what he was involved in when he was arrested. And your client, Belinda, and what she, her new boyfriend, and her roommate were doing with some guy by the name of Alex Angler.”

“Alex Angler?” The name scorched Shannon’s throat as she barely managed to say the words. She tried to swallow, but her muscles wouldn’t work.

A slight breeze kicked up, rattling the sail against the mast of Jackson’s sailboat.

A guttural sob filled her gut. She gasped.

“Are you all right?” Jackson asked.

She sucked in a deep breath, but it didn’t fill her lungs. “Are you sure he’s involved?” She would have never come back to Lake George if any of those five men still lived in the area. Two of them had retired and moved south. One was dead. And that left Alex and Borden. She believed that Borden lived in San Diego now and was told that Alex had a career in New York City. She worried that he might vacation up here or visit, but she hadn’t seen him since the day she’d buried her father.

“You know him?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question.” Tears stung her eyes. Her body shook from the inside out. When she decided to find her little girl, she’d stirred up a lot of emotional baggage, and that had brought back the night that she knew—without a doubt—that her daughter had been conceived. She glanced over her shoulder and stared at the stupid Tartan. Damn fucking gorgeous sailboat. If she were any other woman, she’d give her right arm to go for a ride on the stupid thing.

“Based on my intel, I’m sure he’s the ringleader,” Jackson said. “How do you know

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