Kat stood. "You should leave now. Run to your son and tell him I know everything. Tell him it's not just the words of a dying man that will convict him, but the mountain of evidence my father left behind-just for me."

Direct hit, target shaken.

Crow's feet deepened, her eyes glinted with fear. A clammy sheen glistened on deathly pale skin. Bony fingers pulled at a noose growing tighter by the minute.

One corner of Kat's mouth lifted in morose pleasure.

"I had no idea just how deeply your father's passing had affected you, Kathryn. It's clear to me now the weight of his sudden death and the immense pressures of running his business are simply too much for you. You're falling apart, making wild accusations, and behaving unseemly."

Kat cocked her head in warning. "That's the card you're going to play? Really?

"When I was much younger, I used to wonder why you tried so hard to make me into someone I clearly wasn't-your clone, as if I weren't good enough, exactly as I am. But now that I've had my eyes opened to some pretty fucking harsh realities," Sarah winced at the expletive, "I get it. I understand why you tried so damned hard to make me over in your image." Kat braced her hands on the desk, arms straight, and leaned closer to Sarah.

"It wasn't enough my mother was dead. You wanted to erase every last piece of her from me, and replace it with you." Kat straightened back up and folded her arms across her chest. Judge and jury. "The fact that I look so much like her must be a real slap in the face every time you see me, a reminder of the victim and murderer you've kept hidden all these years." She paused and calculated her next move.

"Are you sure he stopped with my mother?" Kat waited for the question to sink in. Then the doubt rose in Sarah's worried eyes. "Because I'm not. You may have more blood on your hands than just Rose Kelley's."

Kat strode to the door and placed her hand on the burnished handle, but didn't pull it open.

"It's time for you to leave."

Sarah took a few moments to gather herself. Her hands clutched the armrests for balance, but she eventually rose, unsteady at first. She faltered a bit on her path, her normally erect posture seemingly diminished once she finally met Kat at the door. Sarah seemed to have trouble making eye contact. The mask of arrogance she'd worn earlier now dangled in despair. Kat wanted to send her back to 5th Avenue tumbling end over end.

"You need to grasp the gravity of this situation, Sarah. I'm not some raving lunatic, and you're not going to quiet or control me with public pressure. You and Parker need to get that through your thick heads. Right now." Kat inched closer; Sarah shrunk back.

"The police were unable to find the knife Parker used to butcher my mother." Her words were measured, steady and cold as a January wind. She waited until Sarah's wary eyes lifted to hers. "But I know where it is. And I'll be turning it over to the authorities, along with everything else."

Sarah stumbled, braced her hand against the wall. The matriarch had never looked so frail, so small. Even her impeccable breeding with its indoctrination in all manner of social graces and her own mastery at concealment could not prepare her for handling the ultimate demise of everything she'd worked for her entire life. The stain on her name, the tarnish to her family's legacy, would probably unhinge her in the end.

Kat opened the door and waited. Sarah appeared rooted in place, dazed, then gained traction and retreated with a halting gait, clinging possessively to her bag.

Dan frowned as the dismissed woman passed by him, then his eyes swung to Kat, his finger pointing after Sarah. "What'd you do to her?"

Shoulders lifted. "You know how charming I can be."

Dan followed Kat back into her office, closed the door, and positioned himself beside her at the window, the wide-angle view of the city sprawled before them.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Kat."

Her eyes widened with incredulity. "How could I possibly know? I have no frame of reference for anything that's happened since my father died. There's no Dummies manual for this. Maybe I've overplayed my hand in the last twenty-four hours, I don't know," she said, hands raised in question. She then folded her arms across her body with an exasperated sigh. "But I had to see their faces, be the one to tell them, watch their reactions." She closed her eyes, head shaking. "It'll all be over soon."

"Just because you turn over evidence doesn't mean this will be over, Kat. It's only the beginning of a very long road. You know they're going to have the best attorneys money can buy to shut this down."

"You don't know what kind of evidence I have, Dan. Parker isn't going to walk. Sarah might, but she'll be a mere shadow of her former self after this hits."

"Are you ever going to tell me what you've got? Or am I going to have to read about it in the papers like everybody else?"

She weighed the options. "You're going with me to see an attorney tomorrow; you'll find out then. She's going to navigate the NYPD and the prosecutor's office for me. I don't want any chain of custody issues or lost evidence. I'd like your input and help with that."

He nodded. "Of course. Whatever you need."

"At this point, I'd pay people off to do the right thing. God knows enough money exchanged hands in the past to get them to do the wrong thing, to keep it all quiet ... buried."

Her watery gaze flicked to the rolling gray clouds. A storm brewed outside, and inside. She drew a deep breath and found her center again.

"When this is finally over, and I actually have the time to wrap my brain around all of this-my new reality-I'm going to need to schedule time off for a proper breakdown. Way the hell away from here."

The three old friends consumed pizza and beer and yet still managed to get Kat's apartment whipped back into shape. Cassie and Dan had had their usual arguments about politics and religion, with Kat playing referee. Well, goading them, really. She'd always gotten such a kick out of watching them go at it. Those two were like oil and water. The pizza pie, the music playing in the background, and the friendly bickering all helped to transport Kat back to the old days, which helped to redirect her mind away from the present for a while.

Cassie must have noticed the smiles lit with nostalgia and the wistful glances, because she'd repeated her warning to Kat on her way out about not falling into old habits with Dan. And she'd also questioned, again, Tucker's sanity for putting the two of them together at all. Kat couldn't argue the point. The Walsh-James chemistry had always been undeniable and obvious to those around them.

Now the former on-again-off-again couple sat in opposite seats, chairs tilted back with feet propped on the dining room table. Music echoed softly from the living room, relaxing them further as they drank their beers and enjoyed the warm glow of a mild buzz.

"I've got a top-notch security system now according to you." Kat pointed her bottle at Dan. "So I'll be just fine. No need for you to sleep on the couch."

"It's that or the bench across the street. You're not really going to make an old friend sleep outside, are you?" He gave her a wolfish grin and chugged some more beer, his eyes fixed on her.

"I think you need to let someone who hasn't been drinking take over your shift. Your client's safety is your top priority, right?" She dropped her feet to the floor and sat up.

He planted his nearly empty bottle on the table and scooted it away.

"Nobody's getting near you. I know what I'm doing."

Kat grabbed both bottles and moved to the kitchen. She poured out the remainder of his beer, then tossed the empties into the recycle bin. She crossed her arms and faced him over the raised breakfast bar, determination bright in her eyes. In the past, being alone with him would've guaranteed sex. They'd never been able to keep their hands off each other-except for the times they dabbled in other relationships-and then always ended up back with each other.

"We're not getting naked, Dan. I'm with Tucker now, and I will not screw that up."

The front legs of his chair slammed to the floor. He cut around the table and leaned down on the bar top, eye level with her, openly assessing her conviction.

"Why him, Kat?"

"Instead of you?"

"Hell yes, instead of me. With our history? Goddammit, we were good together."

His eyes pleaded for her agreement.

"Not good enough."

"Oh, and your farmer is?"

"He's a rancher and he has a name."

"Whatever."

"I'm not going to rehash last night with you, Dan. You and I worked because it was never a real relationship. You just refuse to face facts."

"What the hell does that mean? It wasn't real? You sure as hell could've fooled me."

"Look, Dan, we're both driven as hell, we always have been. Neither one of us wanted a real relationship. Someone who would make demands on our time, expect us to check in, be present, be thoughtful, remember special occasions-all of that relationship stuff." He clearly wanted to deny facts, but couldn't. "You and I have always lived separate lives, and we came together over the years whenever the timing worked out, when we weren't with other people. Because it was easy, familiar, and no one's heart was on the line. Until you told me otherwise ..." Her tone was apologetic.

After he'd spilled his guts, she'd wondered then, worried, how long he'd felt that way, how long he'd waited to work up the nerve to tell her. Had she missed the cues? Had she been unknowingly stringing him along because she'd been too busy to pay attention? Or had she ignored the signs? So she wouldn't have to say goodbye to a trusted friend?

"I know all that." His voice was rough with two decades' worth of memories. "But things are different; they have been. We both worked day and night for years to build the businesses we each have, and we're finally on the other side of all that hard work. There's time for the relationship stuff now. And I wanted to change it, but you wouldn't even try, not really. But now, you're suddenly ready for something real, with him? Him? It doesn't make sense, Kat. Where'd you even meet a guy like him?"

She remained mute, no answer owed.

He pushed off the countertop and straightened. "I know by most people's standards we had an unconventional arrangement for a long time, but it worked for us. It's what we both needed then."

He turned wistful. "And then I made the big mistake of falling in love with you, of wanting something real, all that relationship stuff, with you." His eyes swept over her, the past reflected in them. "I backed off when you told me to, but I always thought in the end," he shook his head and shrugged, "it'd be you and me ... like it's always been. I thought you just needed more time to see it the same way I did."

Tears burned at the back of her eyes. A panorama of images from the past streamed in her memories. Two kids hungry for freedom and fun wherever they could find it, oftentimes in each other's arms. Two adults determined to break the shackles of the circumstances each had been born into, too focused on careers to make time for anything or anyone else.

"Time won't solve it, Dan. I'm not what you need, not anymore. I'm not what's best for you. I can't be who you want me to be. You don't see it yet because you won't let go of our past. But you have to move on ... I have. This time I really have."

His expression turned solemn, thoughtful. He rolled his lips over his teeth and then released them with a pop.

"He really makes you happy?"

"Very."

A dark cloud of heavy silence hung over them, the tension and history between them palpable.

Then a shit-eating grin reshaped his face as his arms spread wide. "Your loss. You could've had all this. I can't believe you're passing on it."

There he was. The Dan Walsh she'd always loved-in her own way.

Kat snorted and laughed out loud. So did Dan. But she saw the hurt shadowed in his eyes. God, she hated being responsible for it.

"Um, yeah, well," her finger drew a circle around his fit form, "I've already had all that." They laughed some more. "You can sleep on the couch. I'm going to call my farmer, and then I'm going to bed-alone."

Anxiety dug deeper in his belly. "Damn it, Kat, you weren't supposed to do that! You told her too much. You've given them time to plan now, and it puts you in more danger."

"I'm in danger anyway, Tucker. Parker's had it in for me from the beginning-literally. His allegiance to our father is the only reason I'm still alive, you know that. Even my father knew that."

"Yeah, and now that the cat's outta the bag, and they've got an idea of just how much you know, you're in even more danger. His whole goal now is to shut you up before anything gets out. You have to know that." Tucker's trademark calm composure disappeared.

"I do! But it's done. I'm going to see my attorney tomorrow. I'll get the ball rolling on this. Dan's going with me. He can help with all of it. Between the two of them I'll be fine, and safer."

Tucker's jaw ticked at that last comment.

"I'm headin' back there as soon as possible. I don't like this at all. And don't tell me to stay put. Walsh can take care of everything else you need him for, but he's gonna be done takin' care of you real soon." His palm slammed against the steering wheel.

"Tucker-"

"No, Kat! End of discussion. Do you think I give a shit what happens out here if something bad happens to you? We talked about this. You weren't supposed to show 'em your hand. You were supposed to catch 'em off guard with subpoenas and keep yourself safe." His hand dragged down his face. "Fuck, I should've known better. This is my own damned fault."

"Hey! This is my life we're talking about here! These are my decisions!"

"Like hell they are, Kat! When are you gonna stop actin' like you're single? Your decisions affect me, us-when are you gonna get that through your head? We talked all of this out before I left, and you know it's the only damned reason I was willing to leave at all. And then you turn right around and do the opposite? Why?"

He'd tried not yell but had lost the battle. And his temper only served to make Kat angrier. This whole situation had gotten on his last nerve. Her family. His family. Two thousand miles between them. And an old boyfriend playing hero.

It felt like a cave-in.

"You know what, Tucker, I've been just a little bit stressed out, okay? I guess that whole thing with my father dying, reading his journal confessions and finding out my real mother was murdered by my psycho brother has made me just, oh, I don't know, a little crazy! Maybe my judgment is lacking right now, but I think I deserve a fucking pass on this! Forgive me if I'm having difficulty with the whole 'revenge is best served cold' bullshit!"

"Kat-"

"No! You know what? I've had one long motherfucking day and I'm done with this conversation. I need to try and get at least a couple hours' sleep, so I can wake up all over again to this unbelievable nightmare. The last thing I need is any more shit from anyone. Goodnight, Tucker."

He listened to the dead tone for a few seconds and then threw his cell against the passenger floorboard. He ripped his ball cap off and flung it onto the seat beside him, squeezed in futility at the pressure building in his head, and pushed the throbbing mass back against the headrest. He worked to drive away the animosity and resentment and concentrate on getting the hell out of here and back to New York.

His weary eyes studied the lights in the distance dotting the spaces in between the high wrought iron security fence. Then his inspection shifted to the loops and curls of the ornamental "D" centered on the double entry driveway gate in front of him. No point in using the call box. No way in hell that cowardly son of a bitch would open those gates for him.

Tucker reversed gears and swung around so the truck bed faced the gate. Then he secured a towing chain around the center gate posts and attached the J-hook to the trailer hitch. He got back in the driver's seat and snapped his hat back in place, tugging the blue bill low.

He pressed his boot on the gas and headed for the grassy open pasture on the other side of the gravel road, gunning the engine just as the slack pulled tight and tearing the galvanized custom iron from its frame. The mangled heap of black iron twisted, screeched, and clawed across the gravel road to its final resting place in a tangled cloud of dirt and uprooted grass. He retrieved the towing chain and tossed it back in the storage box.

Methods of ending the tiresome old conflict filled Tucker's head. Some legal, some not ... He had proof his waste of a brother was behind the sabotage at the mine and the current IRS investigation. Cameron wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, and he'd been sloppy, which had made it easy for the private investigator that'd been following him. The one Tucker had hired after Cameron threatened Kat.

But there was something else, and Tucker couldn't have been more surprised. The tide had shifted against Cameron with locals now willing to come forward and speak out against someone with the last name Diamond. For the first time, a battle may not be all uphill.

Cameron had spent years trying to ruin Tucker's life instead of making his own better. A monumental waste of effort, money, and time-for both of them. Tucker wanted the madness over. But he'd keep his cool tonight; no choice really. Because he wanted to get back to Kat, the sooner the better.

Finally at the end of the winding drive, he slammed his door shut and trudged to the wide columned front entrance with the leaded glass double doors underneath. He refrained from kicking the door down and instead pounded hard, bellowing his adversary's name. A distorted figure appeared in the leaded design, and then the door swung open.

"Tucker! You trying to wake the dead?"

"What the hell are you doin' here, Shelley? I can't believe you're still with this loser."

Her sharp manicured finger jutted out, ready to draw a line down his chest and midsection. "You were at the top of my list, but you didn't seem interested." She swayed closer, the smack of bubble gum grinding at one side. "Was I wrong?"

He pushed her claws away. "No. It's the only thing you've been right about." He ignored her and moved past, yelled the name that tasted like swill on his lips. He stormed through and searched the nearby den and living room. "Where is he? Hiding?" He stalked back toward her. "Because I'm not leavin' here until I see him."

Her eyes traveled with obvious approval up his body, coming to rest on the dark blue cap squeezed over his blond hair. "You look hotter in a cowboy hat." She licked her red lips, eyes traced the white embroidered letters on the front. "He's not here, stud. You'll have to come back. Or you can wait with me ...," she said, her offer a breathy tease. Then she jolted, straightened in apparent awareness. "Hey! How did you get up here, anyway?"

He bent forward. "You'll need to get that gate looked at. It's not workin' right. Now tell me where he is."

"He's not here."

"Then where's he at?"

"He's gone." She twirled a long strand of blond hair and blew a slow, pink bubble past her pouty lips. She let it linger, then sucked it back into her mouth like the pro everybody in town said she was.

"Gone where? For how long?"