The grief Lucy experienced when Justin was killed nearly twenty years ago had been young and immature, but no less painful. She didn’t know what had happened to him, not right away. She didn’t know why her mother cried all the time, why her sister Nelia wouldn’t talk to her, why there were policemen in her house, why Carina needed a lawyer, why no one would let Andrew come over for dinner anymore. All she knew was that Justin, her best friend since they were born, was gone. One day he was there, playing catch with her in the backyard, swimming with her at the community pool, teasing her when she lisped after her two front teeth fell out. Her mother watched Justin during the week because Nelia and Andrew both worked—Lucy spent more waking hours with Justin than any other person her age. They’d even been in the same first-grade class together. And that summer was supposed to be the most fun ever. They were going to go to a sleep-over camp for the first time for two whole weeks. It was all Justin could talk about, he was so excited.
But that never happened because he was killed two weeks before they were going to leave.
He was gone. One day there, the next not. She’d been gutted, but she didn’t talk to anyone about it because everyone was so sad and talking about Justin seemed to make them sadder.
Maybe that was why she’d always kept her emotions deep inside. Partly because of her own kidnapping and rape when she was eighteen … but it had started a long time before then. It had started when she grieved for her best friend and couldn’t talk to anyone about it.
Now, while she understood death, she had faced evil, she knew that bad people did horrific things to innocent people—she didn’t always know why.
Maybe finding out who killed Justin wasn’t as important as finding out why he was killed.
And if there were other victims of the same killer, did that mean the killer was still out there? After twenty years? Would he kill again? Destroy another family?
“I have to,” Lucy whispered to Sean.
He kissed her hand. “I know.”
She would have smiled if she wasn’t so melancholy. “I love you.”
He winked. “I know.”
Now she did smile, because if she didn’t, she might cry. And tears weren’t productive.
She un-muted the phone. “When is this reporter coming?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I don’t have the exact time.”
“Text me the details. I’ll be there.”
* * *
Danielle Sullivan didn’t like going out with people from work, but it was expected. For every time she declined an invitation, she had to accept one—otherwise people would look at her too closely. She just wanted to do her job and go home, drink a bottle of wine, and try to sleep.
Try being the operative word. Sleep was a rarity for her. When she felt herself being dragged under from exhaustion, she would take a sleeping pill or three. Her body needed the rest, even if her mind couldn’t.
There had been a time … more than once … when she considered taking the entire bottle of prescription sleeping pills, a large glass of wine, and reclining in her bathtub. Just fall asleep. Slip under. Disappear forever.
But would the nightmare end in death? Or would earth’s cruel God force her to relive the worst day of her life? Over and over and over …
Nina Fieldstone poked her head into the bathroom. “Danielle, are you coming?”
“Just touching up my make-up. Two minutes?”
Nina smiled. She was a pretty woman, and smart. One of the few in the office Danielle felt a rapport with. Nina was technically her supervisor, but had never made Danielle feel stupid or unvalued. Because Nina had been the one to ask her to join the group for their “Wine Wednesday,” Danielle had agreed.
“Alright, but remember, happy hour is over at seven, so don’t be long.”
Danielle turned to the mirror and pretended to put on more mascara. She didn’t wear a lot of make-up, but too many sleepless nights required it. She pulled out a tube of concealer and hid the dark circles. Added a little color. Better.
She still felt like a ghost beneath the gloss and glitter.
The bar—called The Gavel because of the proximity to the courthouse—where the legal secretaries hung out every Wednesday night was two blocks from their law office in Glendale. It was a large firm, and anywhere from four to ten women met once a week to let off steam and enjoy company and gossip.
It was the gossip Danielle hated, almost as much as the small talk.
Tonight six of them sat at one of the booths and drank wine. Danielle had to regulate herself. Alone, she would drink an entire bottle. With people, one was all she could handle.
Nina put her hand over Danielle’s. “I’m so glad you decided to join us tonight, especially after the victory you helped secure.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Danielle said. “Just my job.”
“You caught two huge mistakes that saved our client tens of thousands of dollars, and a major embarrassment for our firm. Your drink’s on me tonight.”
Danielle didn’t want the accolades. Yes, she was good at her job. It was all she had. Work, or dying slowly. Those were her options.
The women all chatted amongst each other. Danielle responded to questions because it was expected. She asked a few of her own—she could play the small-talk game when she had to. Half the women at the table were married—Grace had no kids, Natalie had a teenage daughter, and Nina had a son.
An eight-year-old boy named Kevin.
Danielle didn’t want to ask, but she couldn’t help herself. As the conversation turned to relationships and children, she said, “Is your husband home with Kevin? Does he watch him every Wednesday?”
It was casual, and fit with the conversation, but one that had been on Danielle’s mind a lot lately.
Ever since she saw Tony Fieldstone watching his law partner, Lana Devereaux, at the Christmas party six weeks ago. The way he looked at her. The way he watched her walk. Danielle knew the look.
She knew it well.
Too well.
Nina rolled her eyes. “Sometimes he does—he loves spending time with Kevin, don’t get me wrong, but Tony is all work, work, work. And tonight he had a poker game with Judge Carlson and the gang. Third Wednesday of the month. I say, why not Fridays when you don’t have to be in court the next morning? But men.”
Men. Right.
Danielle had worked for Taggert, Fieldstone, Finch and Devereaux for three years. She knew of the poker game, it was common knowledge just like Wine Wednesdays and the monthly Bunco game Grace pushed that she had, thankfully, avoided almost every month. But she wondered how long the game really went. If maybe Tony Fieldstone had someplace else he wanted to be.
A place he wasn’t supposed to be.
With a woman he wasn’t supposed to be with.
“You okay, Danielle?” Nina asked.
“Sorry—long day. Little headache.”
“Another glass of wine? You can Uber home and I’ll pick you up in the morning. You don’t live too far from me.”
“No, I’m fine.” She smiled, such a fake smile, but no one knew. “Do you have a regular babysitter for Kevin? He’s such a good kid.” Nina had brought him into the office a couple of times when there were minimum days in school and she didn’t have a sitter. Danielle tried not to pay attention to him, but she couldn’t help it. He was a perfect child.
Perfect.
Tony didn’t deserve a perfect son like Kevin when he was off screwing another woman.
You don’t know that he is having an affair. You only suspect.
She knew. She damn well knew and she would prove it.
She always did.
“Tony’s mom watches him after school—she lives only a couple blocks from his school, walks over and gets him every day. It’s nice, Kevin being able to spend some time with his grandmother.”
“It is,” Danielle agreed.
But you should be picking him up at school. You should be spending the time with him. Instead you�
�re sitting here laughing and drinking wine with a bunch of selfish, arrogant women.
“We have a regular babysitter when we have to work late—Maggie Crutcher.”
There was a lawyer named Wayne Crutcher. Maggie was his daughter. A teenager. Probably brought her boyfriend over to fuck when Kevin went to bed. They all did. They couldn’t be trusted.
The talk turned back to the office, and Danielle was relieved. She still needed to get out of here. Forty-five minutes … that was long enough, wasn’t it? She showed her face, made the small talk, did the dance, she needed to go because she was already on edge.
“You know, I’m really tired after today,” Danielle said. She finished her wine and smiled. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Do you want to join us Friday for Bunco? It’s at Shelly’s house in Burbank,” Grace said. “You had so much fun last time you came.”
Danielle barely remembered the last time—it was six months ago. She had had too much wine, that she was certain.
“I don’t know—my mom is having a hard time getting around and I help her on the weekends. Shopping, fixing things around the house, you know.”
“You’re so good to you mom,” Nina said. Danielle had told her all about her mother years ago, mostly to get out of socializing. “To drive all the way up there.”
“Where does she live?” Natalie asked.
“Sacramento,” Danielle lied. But it was a lie she told often, so it was one that came out smoothly. “It’s only five, six hours depending on traffic. I don’t mind, put on a book-on-tape or listen to music. But if she doesn’t need me, I’ll consider Bunco. You know me, I’m not really an extrovert. Too many people makes me antsy.” That was the truth.
Nina smiled and patted her hand. “No pressure, but I would love you to come. It’s one night a month, a great way to get out and just relax, no work the next day.”
“Thanks.” She got up, said good-byes—why did it take so long to just tell people good-bye? Why more questions, more small talk, more nothingness?
Finally, she was free. She walked back to the parking garage and retrieved her car. She intended to drive home where she could open a bottle of wine and maybe eat something, but she found herself outside Judge Carlson’s house.
The judge had a private address, but she’d followed Tony Fieldstone here last month, after she suspected he was screwing Lana Devereaux. She saw Tony’s car in the driveway of the opulent house in the Glendale hills.
And Lana’s car. Did Nina know that Lana played poker with “the boys”? The only female partner … was that how it started? The one night a month … turn into something more?
For two hours Danielle watched the house from down the street. Then a car left.
Lana.
Five minutes later a second car left.
Tony.
She followed him.
Tony didn’t go home. She knew where he lived, because she’d once gone to Bunco at Nina’s house when she first started the job with this law firm. Instead, Tony went to Lana Devereaux’s condo in Los Feliz.
Heart racing, she drove past his car as he got out. He didn’t pay any attention to her. And her black Honda Accord was common. It didn’t stand out. Just like she didn’t stand out.
Danielle went straight home. When she pulled into her garage, she turned off the ignition and sat there. Her knuckles were white. Slowly, she peeled her hands off the steering wheel. They were sore from gripping so hard.
She went inside and poured a glass of wine. Drank it quickly, then poured another and picked up her phone.
“Hello,” the familiar voice said. A voice that belonged to a man she had once loved with all her heart and soul … and now hated.
“Have you cheated on your wife yet? Because you know you will. You’re all the same. All of you. Disgusting.”
“Danielle.”
“Why did you do it? Why?”
She asked the same question every time she called him. He never had a good answer. Because there wasn’t a good answer.
“I was a fool.”
“I hate you.”
“I know. Is that why you called? To tell me how much you hate me?”
“No.” She closed her eyes. “I loved you so much. I loved you so much it hurts. And…” Her voice cracked. The pain was real. Still so very real. Time didn’t heal all wounds. Whoever said that hadn’t lost their entire world.
“I’m sorry, Danielle. I truly am sorry.”
“It should have been you. I wish you had died instead.”
“So do I, Danielle. But you can’t—”
She ended the call, unable to listen to her ex-husband anymore. She threw her half-filled wine glass across the room and screamed as it shattered against the wall. She watched the red liquid run down the plaster for several minutes, her mind blank.
Then she walked back to the kitchen, retrieved another wine glass, and poured more wine. She sat at the table and stared straight ahead as she drank.
Thinking.
Planning.
Hating.
It was so much easier to hate than it was to forgive.
Also by Allison Brennan
The Lost Girls
Poisonous
No Good Deed
Best Laid Plans
Compulsion
Notorious
Dead Heat
Cold Snap
Stolen
Stalked
Silenced
If I Should Die
Kiss Me, Kill Me
Love Me to Death
Carnal Sin
Original Sin
Cutting Edge
Fatal Secrets
Sudden Death
Playing Dead
Tempting Evil
Killing Fear
Fear No Evil
See No Evil
Speak No Evil
The Kill
The Hunt
The Prey
Praise for these other novels by New York Times bestselling author Allison Brennan
“If you haven’t been reading Brennan’s truly exceptional Lucy Kincaid/Sean Rogan series, then you have been missing out.… In this mind-blowing installment, Brennan also gives readers a fascinating look into the mind-set of her epic villains. A chilling thrill-fest from beginning to end.”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars, Top Pick!) on No Good Deed
“Longtime bestselling author Allison Brennan reaches new heights in Poisonous, and this smart, sophisticated entry in the Maxine Revere series raises her to the level of Lisa Gardner and Harlan Coben.”
—Providence Journal
“A fast-paced, suspenseful read with interesting characters and sinister twists that keep you turning the pages for more.”
—Karin Slaughter, New York Times bestselling author of Pretty Girls on Poisonous
“Allison Brennan’s Poisonous has it all.… A twisty and compelling read.”
—Lisa Unger, New York Times bestselling author of Crazy Love You
“Don’t miss Max Revere’s roller-coaster new thriller. Talk about grit and courage, Max never gives up.”
—Catherine Coulter on Compulsion
“Packs in the thrills as investigative reporter Max confronts new murders and old family secrets in a suspense novel guaranteed to keep you up late at night!”
—Lisa Gardner on Notorious
“Amazing … The interconnectivity of Brennan’s books allows her ensemble of characters to evolve, adding a rich flavor to the intense suspense.”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars, Top Pick!) on Best Laid Plans
“Gut-wrenching and chilling, this is a story you won’t soon forget!”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars) on Dead Heat
“All the excitement and suspense I have come to expect from Allison Brennan.”
—Fresh Fiction on Stolen
“Once again Brennan weaves a complex tale of murder, vengeance, and treachery filled with knife-edged tension and clever twists.
The Lucy Kincaid/Sean Rogan novels just keep getting better!”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars, Top Pick) on Stalked
“Brennan throws a lot of story lines into the air and juggles them like a master. The mystery proves to be both compelling and complex … [A] chilling and twisty romantic suspense gem.”
—Associated Press on Silenced
“The evolution of Lucy Kincaid from former victim to instinctive and talented agent continues in Brennan’s new heart-stopping thriller … From first to last, this story grabs hold and never lets go.”
—RT Book Reviews (a Top Pick) on Silenced
“Brennan introduces readers to a new and fascinating heroine worth rooting for.… She’s savvy and smart and takes no prisoners. Buckle up and brace yourself for Maxine Revere.”
—Sandra Brown on Notorious
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels. Most recently, she was nominated for Best Paperback Original Thriller by International Thriller Writers and the Daphne du Maurier Award by Kiss of Death. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives in Northern California with her husband, five kids, and assorted pets.
Visit her website at: www.allisonbrennan.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Make Them Pay Page 35
