"The missus is a police detective. She has access to ongoing investigations. And she was promoted two years ago. Right when the counterfeits started turning up."
Tessa watered the plants lined along the white countertop. "Might be coincidence. I can't believe either Neil or Peter would be involved in such an awful crime against their father's bank. It still could be someone else."
"Who else has vault access? Face it, one of them is guilty. While I'm not ruling out Peter, I think Neil's our guy. Now that we've narrowed our suspects to two, the next step is to lay down the trap. We'll need to—"
"Gabe?"
"Bug the offices, their houses—"
"Gabe!" She stood frozen, staring at the plant under her upheld pitcher. "Look." She pointed a shaking finger at her Sensitivity Plant. Her wilted Sensitivity Plant. "I didn't touch it," she whispered. "Someone was in here."
He rocketed off the couch to her side. "Are you positive?"
"Even though Mimosa pudica recovers, repeated stress causes the plant to die. I'm very careful never to touch it."
He swore. "Get down." He snatched the pitcher from her, gripped her upper arms, and sat her on the kitchen floor with her back to the counter. "Stay put while I come up with a plan to get you out of here."
Someone had been in her apartment. Again. The thought of another violation sickened her. She lowered her head, covering her face with shaking hands. Just when she'd begun to believe this whole ugly mess would go away and she could get on with her life.
The door bell pealed. She jerked her head up, her mouth automatically opening to call out.
"Quiet!" A gun appeared in Gabe's hand so fast she didn't even see him move. He stood to one side of the door, his gun held at the ready.
"I hardly think criminals would ring the door bell," she hissed in a whisper. "It's probably Mel. She's been worried about me since the robbery. Don't go off half-cocked and shoot one of my friends."
He peered out the peephole. "It's Peter. Judging by his face, he's not on a social call."
"Peter's a friend and co-worker. He's been here before."
"My gut says different." He glided silently toward the bathroom. "I'll cover you from inside. See what Peter wants."
She swallowed. "All right."
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I can shoot the eye out of a mosquito. If this guy even looks at you cross-eyed, he's dead."
"Thanks for the reassuring words, but I repeat, please don't shoot my friend." She rose on trembling legs.
The door bell chimed again. Peter called out, "Tess?"
"Coming." When Gabe was out of sight, she opened the door.
Peter stepped inside, his face pinched, his eyes red. He looked like he'd been crying.
Tessa gestured at the sofa. "You look like you need to sit down. What's wrong?"
He sank onto the cushions. "I've come from the morgue," he blurted out. "Carla's dead."
Tessa reeled. "What?" she gasped.
"They found her this morning. The coroner said it was a drug overdose." He scrubbed his face with shaking hands. "It's all my fault. God help me, I can't do this anymore."
She tried to speak twice before words emerged. "What happened?"
"Carla never used drugs a day in her life. They killed her." His anguished hazel eyes bored into hers. "They're going to kill you, too. I can't let that happen."
Her heart leapt into her throat. Carla murdered? This nightmare kept spiraling, growing worse. If only she were dreaming. "What exactly are you talking about?" But she was afraid she knew.
"I saw you at the Blue Moon. I went hoping to find Carla. She's been gone for days. I knew something terrible had happened." His voice broke. "They approached you after the robbery, didn't they? After you'd seen the checks. I can imagine what they offered you to keep quiet. Get out, Tessa. Now, before it's too late. Do whatever you have to."
Nausea churned in her stomach. "You—you're involved with Leo Drumm?"
"Not voluntarily." He gave her a pleading look. "I know how easy they make it sound, how tempting the money is. But it isn't worth it."
Hazy and sick, a selfish part of her wished the traitor had turned out to be Neil instead of her friend Peter. "How deeply involved are you?"
He jumped up and began to pace. "It started with gambling." He groaned. "I kept losing, but I knew a lucky score was right around the corner. Before long, I'd lost everything."
"Oh, Peter. I never realized."
"I hid my duplicity well, didn't I? I had a gambling problem in