“Because I didn’t expect it to be a problem. I didn’t think anyone would know who you are, let alone tell Seth we were together.”

“If it was even a possibility, you should’ve protected against it.”

“What’d you want me to do? Invite you over to my house? I don’t even know you!”

He rolled his eyes. “Believe me. You have nothing I want.”

“Except access to Tia,” she said, coming right back at him.

“Which you can no longer give me,” he pointed out.

There was a moment of silence. Then he heard her draw a deep breath. “We can think of something.”

“What?” he snapped. “You’ve blown it. Now I won’t get paid, and neither will you.”

“I did my best!” she cried.

“Well, your best wasn’t good enough. Now you’ve ruined it for both of us. Thanks for nothing,” he said and hung up.

Calling Lois Ivey every name in the book, he was about to toss his phone onto the bed when he realized that she might be useful to him after all. Just because she couldn’t draw Seth over to her house under the pretense of giving him something that had once belonged to his dead wife, like they’d planned, didn’t mean something else wouldn’t work. Ray had spent his life cutting and jiving. If anyone knew how to overcome an obstacle, he did.

“This’ll be even better,” he muttered with a smile as he imagined the outcome for all parties.

When he called Lois back, it took her so long to answer he was afraid he’d made her so mad she wouldn’t. But on the second try, he heard her say, “What do you want?”

He ignored her waspishness. He didn’t care about her—she was just a means to an end—so it didn’t bother him in the least. “I just thought of something,” he said.

“What?” She still sounded sulky.

“Do you know any of the police officers in this town?”

“Of course. I know them all—at least by sight. I’ve lived here for thirty-six years.”

“Have you ever been in trouble?”

“What kind of trouble?”

“With the law!” he said in exasperation. “Traffic tickets, parking tickets, DUI, a dispute with a neighbor, shoplifting. Anything?” She looked innocent enough, but looks could be deceiving. If there were young actresses with the face of an angel who’d do anything for a dime bag of cocaine, there could also be middle-aged nobodies like Lois Ivey with more than a few skeletons in the closet.

“Of course not!” she said, indignant. “What kind of a person do you think I am?”

Bingo. That told him all he needed to know. “A credible one. And that’s what it’s going to take to make this whole thing work.”

“What whole thing?”

“My new plan.”

“Will I still get paid?”