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at this hour. He dialed the number, was connected to a banker who spoke English, and held the phone up to Rick’s ear.

Reading the account and routing numbers off a piece of paper, Rick set up a wire transfer to send all of it back to Liam’s personal checking account at Bank of America. The banker protested—Liam could hear him resisting the request in broken English—but finally gave in. Liam expected as many questions from his bank, probably even some from the FTC. But since the money was his, he was sure it would all work itself out.

When the transfer was complete, Liam cut Rick free, then Chris and Arkin took him away. Chris had used some of the remaining packing tape to bind Rick’s hands behind his back. Rick was terrified and sobbing, but as Liam watched him leave he felt nothing. He didn’t care any more about what happened to Rick than Rick had cared what happened to him. What mattered to Liam was confronting David.

Ava stood up. “You know even if he admits to killing her, he’ll never say it to the police.”

“I know.” Liam looked around, as if taking the place in one last time. “Rick is going to tell them about you when they get their hands on him.”

“They won’t believe him.”

“They might. You’re going to have to shut this place down for a while.”

Ava offered up a smile unlike any Liam had ever seen from her. She looked strangely happy. “It’s time. When I started, it was supposed to be fun. It’s not anymore.”

Liam understood. He began coming here to get away from his wife before the divorce. Then it became a distraction, a way of keeping himself busy so he could forget his children no longer lived with him. Then it became a habit. It would do him good to put this place behind him.

They hugged briefly. “Thank you,” Liam said.

Ava patted him on the back. “Good luck.”

Liam left, weaved his way through the suite for the last time. When he reached the elevators, he pulled out his cellphone and called Anita.

Liam Parker

Liam buzzed David’s condo several times before David came to the intercom and let him up. When he reached the unit, the door was partially open—a clear sign David had been using for years that there was no need to knock.

Liam opened the door the rest of the way. He irrationally feared Bash would be waiting for him. All the lights were on. Elise’s Pomeranian yapped from somewhere deep in the apartment. Dressed in wrinkled brown slacks and a white undershirt, David entered from the hall. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the arched doorway. “What happened to you earlier today?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Why didn’t you come to The Crown?”

“Why did you try to set me up?”

David rocked off the doorway. His arms fell to his sides. His gaze shifted left then right, as if he were trying to assess a new, hostile territory. “What are you talking about?”

“I know. I’ve had a talk with Rick.”

David said nothing.

“Just tell me. What does it matter now anyway?”

David went over to the fridge and got a beer. “You want one?”

“No.”

David popped the top off the Budweiser, took a sip, and returned to the living room. The two men stood in silence, watching each other as David drank the beer.

Liam could hardly believe where the journey had taken him. This man had once been his best friend. If he had denied knowing Rick—if he’d just asked “Who?”—would Liam have started to doubt Rick’s story? He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, because David hadn’t denied it, hadn’t asked who. That meant everything Rick had told him was true.

Finally, David spoke. “What the hell? You’re right. What does it matter now? I mean—who are you going to tell? Even if you did, who’d believe you? But it’s not exactly like you think.”

More silence. Perhaps David was deciding what he wanted to say next. Liam waited.

“I didn’t set you up. Catherine did.”

His ex-wife. That must have been the woman Rick had referred to.

“She wanted you out of her life. She wanted to take the kids back to Mississippi and raise them without you around. But she needed a judge to rule on that and so she hired Elise to make sure a judge ruled in her favor.”

“But . . . how would they ever have met? They wouldn’t have exactly run in the same circles.”

“Catherine met Elise when she came to St. Ann’s looking to clean up.”

The church Catherine volunteers at, Liam thought. It seemed obvious now that David had told him.

“She didn’t stay on the wagon long. She got arrested trying to buy drugs immediately after an NA meeting outside the church. Catherine saw it. She told me the idea came to her a couple of days later. She suspected Elise would need money when she got out, and thought she might be the kind of person who would be willing to do what Catherine wanted.”

“Which was?”

“She wanted Elise to get you drunk, then convince you to drive her through Lincoln Park.”

Liam had a feeling he knew where this was going. Lincoln Park had a lot of bars and, because of that, a lot of cops.

“She told Elise to bump the wheel, start a fight. She wanted you to take your eyes off the road, swerve or have an accident, whatever it took to get a cop’s attention. She was convinced that if you were charged with a DUI she could make you out to be an unfit parent. Elise wanted more money than Catherine was offering, though, so Catherine came to me.”

David finished the beer in one long swig and placed the bottle on the coffee table without taking his eyes off Liam. More silence followed.

Eventually, Liam said, “David, tell me.”

“You know, I’m surprised you’re standing here in my living room right now after what you found out. That takes balls. Not exactly your strong suit, is it? And that

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