The feds hadn’t actually provided any hard evidence tying the daughter to the father in terms of illegal activity. There had been a fair amount of interest in Rica’s gallery in Manhattan because photo surveillance had recorded shots of two upper-level drug couriers making purchases there in the last six months. That was damning, but not something you’d want to go to court on. Still, it was an intriguing piece of the puzzle and warranted continued surveillance. The fact that Rica had opened another gallery where there was already suspicious drug-related activity was a huge red flag that had practically sent Special Agent Allen into paroxysms of excitement.

Carter drained her coffee cup and tossed it into a nearby wastebasket. As she did, she noted out of the corner of her eye a gunmetal gray sedan edge along the pier and stop. She’d seen it parked up the street from Rica’s gallery that morning and she’d also seen it following her as she’d walked down Commercial Street. The driver evidently thought that because no one ever drove more than five miles an hour along the single lane one-way street, she wouldn’t notice him tailing her.

Carter decided to disavow him of that notion. She walked over to the car and tapped on the window. When she saw who was inside, she smiled.

The automatic window slid down and she leaned her forearms on the door, smiling at the man and woman in the front seat. “Hello, Agents.”

Agent Allen, her features…which would have been pretty had she ever thought to smile…set into a mask of annoyance, leaned across Toome, who was in the driver’s seat. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Get in the car before someone sees us.”

Carter glanced around the wharf. A line was queuing for the Boston ferry, and harried families with too much luggage and wayward children milled about among the gay and lesbian couples leaving after their week of enjoying majority status. The most nefarious individuals in sight were a pair of male street performers dressed like Cher and Celine Dion.

“I don’t actually think there’s anyone around who would care about…”

“Just get in the car.”

“Okay,” Carter said as she slid into the backseat. “But it would be a lot less conspicuous if you, Special Agent Allen, got out and we went for a stroll. Anyone who was really looking for an undercover team would pick up on this vehicle right away.”

Allen snorted. “Oh really? And just what would they think the two of us were doing walking around in plain sight?”

“They’d probably think we were lovers.” Carter smothered a smile at Allen’s look of horror. She lifted her shoulder. “But if you want to take a chance…”

“All right,” Allen seethed. “We’ll walk. Get out of the car.”

Apparently the once distasteful idea was suddenly more appealing, because Allen bolted from the car and Carter had to sprint before catching up with her halfway down the wharf in the center of town. She gripped Allen’s wrist to slow her down.

“What’s going on?”

“I wanted to get a look at the place, in case any kind of action develops here.”

“You mean you’ve never been?”

Allen slanted her eyes in Carter’s direction. “Why would I?”

“Well,” Carter mused, “it’s one of the most beautiful places on the East Coast. It’s got miles of national seashore. It’s got great history, excellent food, fine art, good entertainment, and beautiful women…”

“Your problem, Carter, is that you can’t keep your personal life separate from your work.”

Carter raised her eyebrows. “Is that so? And how exactly would you know that?”

“It’s not exactly a secret that you’ve slept with witnesses, and for all I know, probably suspects.”

Carter laughed. “The only entertaining I’ve done with witnesses has been after a case has closed. As to suspects, well, it’s one instance where handcuffs are a turnoff.”

Allen stopped dead. “If I didn’t think you had the best chance of getting into Ricarda Pareto’s bed, I would’ve had you pulled off this investigation a long time ago.”

“It’s Grechi.”

“What?”

“Grechi. She’s going by Grechi, not Pareto.”

“Her grandmother’s name?”

“And her mother’s maiden,” Carter pointed out.

“Why? Has she ever done that before?” Allen reached into her pocket for a small notebook, but at Carter’s look of amusement, changed her mind. “All right, then. What’s your theory?”

“I got the sense that she came here because no one knows her. Maybe she doesn’t want to be the don’s daughter.”

Allen gave Carter an incredulous look. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Why? What do you really have on her that says otherwise?”

“That’s your job,” Allen said acerbically. “It would be nice if you actually did it for a change. So just do whatever it is that you do, and get to the pillow talk.”

“Maybe she’s not my type.”

“Make the sacrifice.”

“Maybe I’m not hers,” Carter said, realizing the thought bothered her.

“So charm her.”

After their brief encounter that morning, Carter wasn’t certain that charming Rica was going to be all that easy, but she liked the prospect. She regarded Allen seriously. “Look, this town is too small to have you hanging around. If Rica’s father does send someone over here to keep an eye on her, they’re going to be on to you and Toome right away. Stay out of town.”

“I’m not leaving you unsupervised,” Allen said. “But the next time, I’ll come alone and book a room somewhere. I’ll play tourist.”

Carter shook her head. “You’re the boss.”

“You’d do well to remember that.”

Allen turned her back and marched back down the wharf toward the gray sedan. Carter wondered who had been telling Agent Allen that she would sleep with suspects to get information. She actually never had, although she’d done drugs with a few to prove her cover story. It wasn’t a moral issue, since fabricating entire existences was part of her undercover work and using sex as a ploy to get what she needed came under the heading of “doing what was necessary to get the job done.” She’d always been able to find out what she needed short of getting completely up close and personal, and she’d actually never been tempted to take what was frequently offered. She just hadn’t been interested.

Watching the federal agents drive away, Carter stuffed her hands in her pockets and headed west down Commercial Street, opposite the direction she really wanted to go. She wanted to go east, back to Rica’s gallery. Carter didn’t relish the idea of lying her way into Rica’s bed, and she wasn’t sure why. The woman was beautiful and desirable.

Still she remembered the way Rica had searched her face through the glass, as if looking for truth. Making her believe she’d found it, when it was all a lie, was going to be harder than Carter thought.

Chapter Eight

Bri parked her brand-new Harley Roadster next to Reese’s Blazer and took the stairs up to the office two at a time. When she shouldered through the door, she saw her partner Ali already at her desk and Gladys in her usual place at the call station.

“Hey. What’s going on?” Bri asked of no one in particular. She dropped her motorcycle gloves and helmet on her desk.

Ali shrugged and Gladys pointed to Nelson’s office.

“They’re in there.”

Bri looked from one woman to the other, sensing a disturbance in the air. Tiny fingers of dread trickled along her spine, and she shrugged the apprehension away. Needing somewhere to aim her uneasiness, she strode to her father’s office door and knocked sharply. When she heard a rumble that approximated Come in, she pushed it open and stepped inside. Reese sat in one of the chairs in front of her father’s desk. She didn’t look sick, but she did look odd in her civilian clothes. Bri was used to Reese always being command perfect when at work, her uniform crisp and clean, her attitude focused and certain. Again, she had the feeling that something was out of place. Off kilter. As if the world had tilted just a little bit.

With a note of bravado in her voice, Bri said, “What gives?”

Reese turned ever so slightly in her chair and locked gazes with Bri. Her face was expressionless but her eyes were sharp and hard. “Do you want to rephrase that, Officer?”

For a second, Bri was tempted to resist the authority in Reese’s voice. For a second, she was the same angry, belligerent teenager she’d been the first night Reese had come upon her and Caroline making out in a dark alley. She’d been ready to fight then, and she was ready to fight now. Because she felt threatened and afraid. She took a breath and looked from her father to Reese, and could find no enemy. She squared her shoulders and faced her father.

“You wanted to see me, Chief Parker?”

“I need you to take Conlon’s shift.”

“Yes sir.”

Reese stood. “And I need you to come for a ride with me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Nelson stood as well and stretched his hand out across the desk. “I’ll see you soon, Conlon.” His voice was husky and he cleared his throat before clasping Reese’s hand. He shook it firmly and added, “And give them hell.”

“Yes sir,” Reese said to the standard exhortation. “I will, sir.”

Bri didn’t say anything as she and Reese walked through the squad room, but she felt Ali’s and Gladys’s eyes on them. Her stomach burned and her legs felt wobbly, and she didn’t have the slightest idea why. There was nothing visibly wrong, except her father looked sad in a way he hadn’t since that night she’d been attacked in the dunes. When she’d been beaten and…

“Is Tory all right?” Bri stopped dead in the middle of the parking lot. “She’s not hurt, is she?”

Yes, she is. And I’m to blame. Reese shook her head. “No, she’s fine. Come on, get in the truck and I’ll explain.”