"I made a horrible mistake," Rachel continued. "I knew it that night when the reality of what we were doing sank in. Everything before then had seemed like a risky gamble, a game. Stealing from James Holden, who was a billionaire who had been accused of shady business practices and harassment of women, made me feel like we were Robin Hood, stealing from a bad guy who didn't deserve what he had anyway. But then the guns came out. And a man went down, and his blood was very, very real. Max told me to get the car. I had one of the tote bags we'd filled up from the safe, and I ran."

"But you didn't get the car," Max said. "You drove away and left me and Jonah to take the fall."

"I didn't kill that man. You and Jonah did," Rachel snapped. "And you didn't take the fall. You got away with the art and half the cash."

"What happened after that?" I asked.

"I ran to my sister," Rachel replied. "I begged her to help me. I told her that Max and his family would come after me."

"Why didn't you leave the stolen items behind?" I asked.

"I thought I might need insurance. I didn't tell my sister what was in the bag until after we were far away from New York. She didn't know about any of it for a couple of weeks."

I thought about that. "Why didn't you give it back then?"

"Good question," Max said.

"I wasn't talking about giving it back to you," I said, sending him a disgusted look. "It belonged to James Holden."

"It didn't really belong to him, either," Rachel said. "James Holden was also a thief. He liked to collect stolen goods and show them off to his friends. That was another reason why I decided that robbing him was a good idea."

"Sounds like you were good at rationalizing," I said coldly.

Rachel stiffened. "You wanted the story, I'm telling it. My sister and I needed the cash to survive, to buy new lives for ourselves, and I didn't think there was a way to return anything without compromising ourselves with the police or bringing attention to us."

"So you ran away, had two babies, then gave them to your sister and ran away again. For seven years, everything was good. Then you met up in New Orleans. Why?" I asked.

Rachel licked her lips. "It doesn't matter. It was another mistake. I've made a lot of them. And I'm sorry for all of them."

"I don't think sorry will help us right now," I said harshly.

Max smiled. "That's cold. Maybe you are my daughter."

"I'm not your daughter," I said. "I don't care what my DNA says. My father is not a murderer."

His eyes darkened into hard points.

"Brynn," Dani implored. "Stop."

I turned to look at my sister. She'd been so quiet I'd almost forgotten that she was there.