“Are we ready?” Jeffrey clapped. He adjusted her father’s tie and gave her a pointed look. “Just five minutes of smiles and we’re done.”

The man had a face like a bulldog and was just as stubborn. In her father’s early years, Jeffrey would bribe her with everything from ice cream to new books to get her to smile for the cameras. Ice cream and books wouldn’t work now. She grabbed her camera and the attention of her mother at the same time.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Lane’s the official photographer of the event,” Meagan said. “She’s good and it keeps the costs down. More money for charity.”

Their mother looked ready to protest but stopped. She pasted a smile on her lips and walked over to join the family, who was already on the porch. Meagan winked.

“Thanks.” It felt nice having Meagan as her ally.

Jeffrey exhaled loudly. “Just five minutes, Lane.”

“Three and a half.”

He rolled his eyes and walked out the door.

“You should’ve asked for ice cream.” Meagan laughed. “He’d probably give in.”

After the guests were welcomed and the appropriate number of photos of her family had been taken, Lane made her way through the soft blades of manicured grass. Round tables with white linens were set up across the expansive lawn. The band played a peppy jazz number as guests greeted one another and found their way to the bar.

Lane snapped a few pictures but mostly let her eyes wander in the hopes of finding Charlie in the crowd. She recognized a few of the deputies in plain clothes as they attempted to blend in with the social elite, but eventually they paired off and kept to the perimeter of the party. Charlie wasn’t one of them. Surely he would’ve come up to her and said hello, right? Lane bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed at her insecurity. This wasn’t a date. Charlie was working. And so was she, sort of.

Lane lifted her camera and grabbed some candid shots of guests enjoying themselves. She paused at the sound of her father’s voice speaking to a small group of reporters.

“I assure you, it’s only a matter of time before we get him.”

“It’s been several weeks, Judge Sullivan. What makes you think you’re any closer to finding the person or persons responsible for killing Sydney Donovan? And do you think this hurts your chance at winning the seat?”

Lane recognized the blonde reporter asking the questions. She was the one who had flirted with Charlie outside Dr. Wong’s office. What was her name? De . . . something.