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He took his shot, sending the ball precisely where he’d intended, sinking another into a corner pocket. His expression shifted ever so slightly from intense focus to smug satisfaction. Then his eyes widened in what seemed like surprise as they found mine.

I straightened, knowing I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, but unable to break his gaze. I’m here, I said to him silently across the distance. And the way he continued to look at me, it almost felt like he was glad to see me. Probably because I was witnessing this – him, content in a world without me. It was yet another layer of despair, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he saw it in my face. Good for him. Congratulations.

Someone else caught his attention then, someone closer to where I was. He nodded once then turned back to his game.

I looked to where he’d nodded and found Anatolios headed my way.

“This is a private game,” he said. “I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.” Fucker. And fuck Reeve for sending him after me. It wasn’t like I was interrupting anything and I was positive I’d handed him a victory in my obvious misery. I brooded about it as I stomped up the stairs to Reeve’s room.

Once upstairs, I went to his bathroom to scrub my face. I took the opportunity to give my reflection a stern lecture. “Look at you, occupied with sulking so that you don’t have to feel the real emotions stewing underneath. You think that earns you compassion? You’re pitiful.”

I dried off and turned away, but another voice in my head challenged me. What are you going to do about it?

Grow some fucking balls, that was what.

Reeve was occupied downstairs, and the staff that was still working was attending to him and his friends. They’d turned on music now, the pulsing beat of the bass carrying easily up to me. If I used that to gauge whether the party was still going or not, I should be able to do some exploring. Some real exploring this time, no cowering when what I found got hard to look at.

There were many places in Reeve’s room that I could rummage through, but I wanted to make the best use of this chance, not knowing when I’d get such an opportunity again. To get to the guest rooms, I’d have to cross the bridge where I could easily be seen from below. I could, however, slip up the stairs to his office without anyone the wiser. So I did.

The room was dark and it took a minute for my eyes to adjust. When I could see, I headed for his desk. There was a small lamp there, which I turned on, and his computer was my primary interest. It was already on, displaying the black screen of sleep mode. I jiggled the mouse and prayed there wasn’t a password.

There wasn’t.

Damn, I really should have tried to do this earlier. If only I hadn’t been so absorbed with Reeve.

No, I wasn’t doing the if only’s right now. There were other more important things to do. Immediately, I opened a game of computer solitaire. If I did get caught, it could be my excuse for being up here. It wasn’t like Reeve had named either the room or his computer off limits. If he was mad and wanted to give me another one of his “loud and clear” messages, that would be just fine. And be welcome, too.

After dealing cards and playing a few for appearances’ sake, I moved to snooping elsewhere. His document folders were numerous, but in a quick scroll through the list there were only a few that didn’t seem to be related to Sallis Resorts. The first one, labeled R. OPTIONS, had pictures of modern kitchens and dining rooms. When I found one that looked an awful lot like his downstairs, I realized he used these for the remodel he’d done the summer before. A peek at the last opened date confirmed that it hadn’t been looked at in almost a year. Until now.

Dammit. I’d forgotten that I’d leave an imprint. I decided to be ultra conservative when deciding what other docs to open. That ruled out most of the ones I’d earmarked. The last two, labeled KOSTAS and VALENTINE, were both password protected. In the Finder, I sorted all the files to put the most recently opened on top. Nothing stood out. I scrolled to the previous summer and found nothing had been opened at all between April and October, which made sense since that was when he’d evacuated the house for renovations.

His email, I decided, would be more helpful since it traveled with him. Plus, the messages wouldn’t date stamp when they’d last been looked at. There were only a handful of unread messages, all business related. The rest were archived in folders. Dozens of folders. And in the folders were more folders. I didn’t have enough time to sort through them like I wanted, so I searched for terms I was interested in first. Vilanakis brought up nothing. Michelis had the same result. Missy brought up several but nothing of value. Nothing that said, “I killed her.”

Honestly, what was I expecting?

I hesitated before typing in the next term to take a deep breath and prepare. When I was ready, I put in Amber.

Four messages turned up.

I started with the oldest from October of the year that Amber and Reeve must have met. It was from a private investigator and included an attached file, basically a background report listing all her basic information. I assumed it was standard procedure for him to obtain one when seeking out a new girlfriend.

The next email was an application for a rush passport for Amber, from June of last year. Probably just before they’d gone to Wyoming. It was approved. So why had she needed a passport? And did she use it?

The message that followed was even more intriguing. It was dated November 1 and included a single attachment and only a simple line of text. “I’m enjoying her immensely. Thank you much. M.” I opened the file and my heart nearly stopped. It was the picture of Michelis and Amber from the Colorado casino that Joe had shown me. The one that had been sent to him anonymously. Except, in this one, Michelis wasn’t cut off, and I could see it was he who was taking the shot with his phone.

The email had come from [email protected], a third-party service, it seemed. But I guessed it was Michelis who sent it, that he was the “M” in the signature. Was it he who had sent the picture to Joe, then? If so, why? And the message – didn’t that suggest that Reeve had given Amber to his relative as a gift?

Don’t read into it, I told myself. It could mean something else. I didn’t know what, but I was still defending Reeve, even to myself.

The last email was from the same address, dated the day before Thanksgiving, and was just as upsetting. It read, “Thought you’d be interested. M.” Attached was the Jane Doe autopsy report that Joe had shown me.

I hadn’t thought there was any more in me to deflate, but apparently there was. Because what further proof did I need that Reeve had been involved in Amber’s death?

Except, I still didn’t know that for sure. It didn’t mean that Reeve had wanted her dead. He might have shared Amber, as he’d told me he’d done with women before, and then maybe it had been Michelis alone who had decided to end her life. Maybe Reeve had thought that his relative would take care of her, love her even. Maybe Reeve had been just as upset about this turn of events as I was.

Though, that was unlikely.