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“Ryan has been doing some digging on our behalf. Elise doesn’t have much of a paper trail. No credit cards, no bank statements, no work history. The one and only apartment he found in her name was the one she died in.”

“I did get ahold of her phone records,” Ryan added, finally speaking.

“And?” Liam pressed.

“Apparently the theory isn’t so farfetched,” Patricia said.

“What do you mean?” Liam said. Although the implication was clear, it seemed impossible to him. Despite all her lies, he still believed their relationship had been real. He figured he had to be missing the point.

But he wasn’t, and when Ryan said, “Looks like she was indeed seeing someone else,” a powerful cocktail of shock and denial powered through Liam’s system like a locomotive.

Christopher Bell

Chris pushed the thief’s bedroom door open far enough to see the cracked window and knew he was gone. He was livid. He didn’t think about the risk he was taking by being in this apartment. (If the thief called the police to report a B&E, his career—his whole life—would be over.) All he thought about was the ring and where the thief might have put it.

He and Arkin turned the apartment upside down, dumping everything out of the drawers and cabinets, toppling furniture, checking every pocket in every article of clothing. They found several loose coins, mostly pennies, and came across a folded and worn photo in the back pocket of a pair of jeans, but no ring. Or not the ring he was looking for, anyway.

Chris hadn’t gotten a good look at the thief on the CTA video and barely remembered what he looked like—skinny, white, average height. He wasn’t a redhead and his hair wasn’t jet black either. To be any more precise than that, he’d be guessing. But that alone was enough to know the thief wasn’t among those in the photo he found. The man in it was older, balding, sitting next to a woman who held an infant in her lap.

When Chris gave up his search, he felt defeated. Emma chastised him for his failure. She told him he should have expected the thief to go out the window. “If I’d been there,” she said, “I would’ve told Arkin to wait outside, just in case something like that happened.”

“You’re going to Monday-morning quarterback this thing?”

“Call it what you want, but you screwed this up royally. We’re never going to get that ring back now.”

Although Chris didn’t say as much to Emma at the time, he refused to accept that. He’d get the ring back. If he couldn’t, he’d get revenge. It only seemed fair. When the thief had stolen it, Chris felt violated. He’d wanted the thief to go to jail and had wanted the ring back because it was expensive. Now he had a more personal reason, as well—Emma. She was disappointed in him. If he didn’t make things right, she’d always be disappointed in him.

The only question was how.

Liam Parker

Liam couldn’t stop thinking about the mystery man Elise had been dating. Ryan hadn’t been able to tell him much but the quantity of texts and phone calls the two had exchanged. As far as suspects went, though, it didn’t make any difference. The police had questioned him and ruled him out.

After two more days stuck in David’s condo, watching TV and thinking about Elise, Liam couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to direct his attention elsewhere for a while. His trial was six months away and he couldn’t put his entire life on hold until then.

He decided to swing by ConnectPlus to pick up his computer. A quick in and out. Although he’d agreed it was best to let David run the place on his own for the time being, that didn’t mean he had to remain entirely uninvolved. If Liam had his computer, he could monitor the business in a way he couldn’t without it. Unlike David, he knew how to use the data to look for sales opportunities and warning signs. It was only smart he use that knowledge to help David steer the ship in his absence.

Liam made it to his office with little more than a few awkward hellos. He unplugged his laptop, stuffed it into his computer bag, and was about to leave when his phone rang. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and answered.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Patricia demanded. “You spoke to the state’s witness. Are you crazy?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Who am I—Jesus, Liam, how many people did you talk to?”

Then Liam realized Patricia had to mean Ashley Carlson. Before he could say as much, Patricia said, “Elise’s neighbor. Did you go by her apartment to try to get her to change her story?”

“I wanted her to know what really happened,” Liam said defensively. He had left the door to his office open. Several employees on the other side had stopped what they were doing to listen.

“I told you not to speak to anybody.”

“I know. This was before—”

“Why didn’t you tell me? It doesn’t matter. The judge is revoking your bail.”

He turned toward the tall windows behind his desk, seeking privacy. “He can’t do that.”

“If he thinks you were trying to influence her testimony, he absolutely can.”

Liam pressed one hand to the glass to steady himself. He saw a line of police cars two blocks away and headed in his direction.

Patricia took a deep breath to calm herself down. “Are you at home?”

“No, not right now.”

“Okay, I think Detective Wyatt’s going to let you turn yourself in. I want you to go home, get your affairs in order, and then call me back.”

Nearly frozen with fear, Liam watched the police cars get closer and closer still. He nodded and, feeling like he had responded, hung up.

He left his laptop on his desk and hurried to the elevator, ignoring the eyes on him. As he descended