“I understand that it’s not her fault I dread seeing her. She can’t help it that I don’t want to hear her voice right now. I’m sure it’s not her choice that she represents everything wrong in our lives. It’s through no damn fault of her own that I associate her with everything I care about being taken and destroyed.”

“Nothing’s been taken and destroyed, Kay.” Benton’s voice is gentle, his eyes soft and I can feel his love for me. “We won’t allow anything that matters to be taken from us.”

“I don’t want Desi to be frightened by what she says.”

“We’ll protect him. I promise. But he’s been hearing it, Kay. He’s actually taking things in stride.”

“Maybe better than I am.” I stir wine into the sauce. “But I don’t want him worrying that his Aunt Lucy could go to jail. Or worse that she’s bad, that she used her Swiss Army knife to break into the back of my truck, and that her childhood teddy bear was involved in torture.”

Tool marks on the flathead screwdriver matched what was used to remove screws in the taillight. The red Swiss Army knife and Mister Pickle are evidence that could be used against Lucy. I have no doubt this was part of Carrie’s plan, and I don’t expect to have a pleasant evening.

“Let’s just get through this.” Benton kisses me and pours our drinks.

Jill Donoghue is on her way here and the visit isn’t social. For the most part it will be miserable as we fill her in on what has occurred and what we should expect, which is nothing less than anarchy. There are possible criminal charges to explore, and of course I’m waiting for Troy Rosado to sue now that he’s no longer in critical condition.

The rest of them are dead, and I can’t stop seeing their bodies piled in an old cow stall. I see them vividly when I least expect it. The images are there in my mind like a huge graphic painting, a gruesome mural that wraps around the walls. I see death and destruction and a future that offers little hope as we face the ugly fact that everything we’ve built in our careers has been compromised. Possibly it’s been perverted and completely destroyed. Worst of all is the thought that every case we’ve worked will be overturned and evil people will be free to pick up where they left off.

“A little more ice please.” I set down my whiskey tumbler. “And make mine a double.”

“She just pulled up.” Benton is peeking out the window by the breakfast table.

“She’s early.” I turn off the stove.