I liked Beaujolais. It was simple. I wanted tonight to be simple. That strange episode Roy had a few minutes ago, though? That had been anything but simple.

After the waiter left again, I regarded him. “What’s going on, Roy?”

“Nothing.”

“Bull.”

“I’m just concerned. About everything. You know. I’m a suspect in my father’s murder, for one.”

I nodded. I hadn’t forgotten. My work so far had all been about that. But this dinner… I sighed. I’d so wanted this dinner to be like the Beaujolais—simple.

But this was Roy Wolfe.

It would never be simple.

“Is there anything you want to talk to me about?”

“My sister.”

I nodded. “What about her?”

“I don’t think— I don’t think she murdered my father.”

“I don’t think so either, though if what Rock says is true—Lacey filled me in—she sure had a motive.”

“I know. But so did we all, if you want to go that route. He didn’t sexually abuse Rock, Reid, and me, but he sure abused us physically. And mentally. And emotionally.”

Mentally? Emotionally?

Physically, yes. I knew about that, and I ached for Roy and the others for it. Mentally, though? Emotionally?

Roy Wolfe was more complex than I’d imagined.

“I’m so sorry all of you had to go through that.”

“We lived,” he said, “but I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend the rest of my life in prison for something I didn’t do. And I don’t want my siblings to either.”

“Rock has an ironclad alibi.”

“The rest of us don’t, including Lacey.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what to say.

“I need help, Charlie.”

His voice wasn’t weak. It was strong. He was asking for help from a position of strength.

“What can I do?”

“I need to remember, silver. I need to remember.”

My skin went cold. “What do you need to remember, Roy?”

“I need to remember what I saw, but God, I don’t want to remember.”

“What you saw? What are you talking about?”

This was it. This was what I sensed upon our first meeting and what got stronger the more time I spent with Roy Wolfe.

He was hiding something, and now…

Now he wanted the key.

That painting in the lobby when I’d first interacted with Roy. It was so beautiful and haunting. Something was hiding in that painting, and I’d been looking for a key.

Until Roy had said, “There is no key.”

“Does this have to do with your father?” I asked.

“Yes, my father. My father and…someone else.”

My phone buzzed. Damn! Not now. But it was Lacey, probably about work, and this was still my first week on the job.

“Go ahead and take it,” Roy said.

“No. This is more imp—”

“I said take it.” His tone wasn’t angry, but it was harsh.