Grace nodded. ‘Gabriel wanted to discuss a case he’d recently taken on, but all he would say when I asked was that he really needed to see me because he wasn’t comfortable hashing out the specifics over the phone. He had something he wanted to show me, but again, he refused to say what that was, only that it pertained specifically to the case he’d mentioned to me a few weeks ago. Thinking back, I realize he sounded nervous, but I was so preoccupied that it didn’t register.’ Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow several times before continuing. ‘Until it was too late.’

She lifted her tear-filled gaze to Alyssa, silently pleading for understanding. ‘I’ve been buried with the Clay Timberton murder trial coming up, so I asked Gabriel if we could meet up Saturday. He said it was too urgent, that he didn’t want to wait, but I really didn’t have much wiggle room in my calendar. He finally muttered something about it being “this long already, so a few more days couldn’t hurt” before he reluctantly agreed, and we tentatively made plans to meet at Weck’s Saturday at seven.’ Yanking a tissue out of the box situated in the center of the table, Grace roughly scrubbed at the tears spilling down her cheeks.

Nearly two years ago on Christmas Eve, Clay Timberton had allegedly broken into his ex-wife’s house in the middle of the night and brutally slit the throat of all eight people inside, including that of her elderly grandparents and her youngest child, a three-year-old. So, Alyssa understood exactly why Grace hadn’t felt like she could take the time to meet with her brother. From the moment the Timberton case had landed on her desk, Grace had been like a pit bull, making sure there were no legal loopholes that would allow the man to get anything less than the absolute maximum.

Because the two of them were so similar, Alyssa knew that she, too, would’ve carried such a burden on her own shoulders, just like she knew there would be no reason valid enough to stop the district attorney from teetering on the ledge of guilt or beating herself up over the ‘what ifs.’

Grace’s voice was full of torment when she spoke again. ‘And now he and Lydia are dead, and Addis and Emerson are missing. Surely, I could’ve spared fifteen minutes to—’