“I don’t know. But for now we know exactly where she is. I’m going down to talk to her.”

“Don’t! Don’t go there.”

“Seth, we’ve talked about this.” Cam massaged the shaking shoulder as he turned Seth to face him. “The only way we’re going to fix this for good is to deal with her.” “I won’t go back.” It was said in a whisper, but a furious one. “I’ll never go back.”

“You won’t go back.” Ethan unhitched his tool belt, laid it on the workbench. “You can stay with Grace until Anna gets home.” He looked at Phillip and Cam. “We’ll go to Hampton.”

“What if the cops say I have to? What if they come while you’re gone and—”

“Seth.” Phillip interrupted the rising desperation. He crouched, took Seth’s arms firmly. “You have to trust us.”

Seth stared back at him with Ray Quinn’s eyes, and those eyes were glazed with tears and terror. For the first time, Phillip looked into them and felt no shadowy resentment, no doubts.

“You belong with us,” he said quietly. “Nothing’s going to change that.”

On a long, shuddering breath Seth nodded. He had no choice, could do nothing but hope. And fear.

“We’ll take my car,” Phillip stated.

“GRACE AND ANNA will calm him down.” Cam shifted restlessly in the passenger seat of Phillip’s Jeep.

“It’s hell being that scared.” From the backseat, Ethan glanced at the speedometer and noted that Phillip was pushing eighty. “Not being able to do anything but wait and see.”

“She’s fucked herself,” Phillip said flatly. “Getting arrested isn’t going to help her custody case, if she tries to make one.”

“She doesn’t want the kid.”

Phillip spared a brief glance at Cam. “No, she wants money. She isn’t going to bleed any out of us. But we’re going to get some answers. We’re going to end it.”

She’d lie, Phillip thought. He had no doubt that she would lie and wheedle and maneuver. But she was wrong, dead wrong, if she thought she could get past the three of them to Seth.

You’ll handle what comes next, Ray had said.

Phillip’s hands tightened on the wheel. He kept his eyes on the road. He’d handle it, all right. One way or the other.

WITH HER HEAD throbbing, her stomach rolling, Sybill walked into the small county police station. Gloria had called her, weeping and desperate, begging her to send money for bail.

For bail, Sybill thought now, fighting off a shudder.

Gloria said it was a mistake, she reminded herself, a terrible misunderstanding. Of course, what else could it have been? She’d nearly wired the money. She still wasn’t sure what had stopped her, what had pushed her to get into her car and drive.

To help, of course, she told herself. She only wanted to help.

“I’m here for Gloria DeLauter,” she told the uniformed officer who sat behind a narrow, cluttered counter. “I’d like to see her, if possible.”

“Your name?”

“Griffin. Dr. Sybill Griffin. I’m her sister. I’ll post her bond, but I’d . . . I’d like to see her.”