men, had become the head of the entire clan and had earned the title of Ravinder. As far as she could tell, the others were all called by their first names.
“The whole town, really,” he continued. He was right. Levi’s distillery employed dozens of Del Sol’s finest.
“So, you’re all protecting him?” She knew the answer, of course, but wanted to hear it from him. She also wanted to know who was behind it. Levi would never put his people up to something like this.
He studied the nail he’d chewed on earlier. “No, ma’am. Like I said, I did it.”
“All right, then. Thank you, Joshua.” She stood and opened her door, inviting him to leave. He started to follow her but turned and put the torn letter on her desk.
“Great!” Quincy yelled out in the bullpen. She looked over at him as she escorted Joshua out. “Just great. Randy ate my almonds.”
When he threw an empty wrapper into his trash can, Sun couldn’t help but notice Rojas, whose desk was next to Quincy’s, cringe in guilt and turn away as he wiped salt off his mouth. Oh, yeah. He was going to fit right in.
She saw their latest blasphemer out, then locked herself in her office to make a call. To make the call.
After being transferred, put on hold, and transferred again, a female came onto the line with a short, to-the-point, “Danforth speaking.”
“Yeah,” Sun said, lowering her voice, “I was wondering if you’re naked.”
A high-pitched squeal nigh burst her eardrum. “Sunshine! Is it really you?”
“It is if you’re naked.”
“Oh, my God, how are you? How’s the sticks? How’s Auri? Is she willing to cut off her hair so I can make a wig out of it yet?”
Sun laughed. “Not yet, but I think I’m wearing her down.”
“Holy shit, it’s good to hear your voice.”
Nancy Danforth was a hot mess who’d gotten Sun into more trouble than she had a right to back in the day. She’d started at the forensics lab at the New Mexico Department of Public Safety around the same time Sun started with Santa Fe PD. After a particularly brutal reaming they’d both received concerning a tainted blood sample—an incident that turned out to be neither of their faults—they’d bonded over a glass of wine and a case of Thin Mints.
Not a box. A case.
And they’d been close ever since.
“What did I do to finally warrant a call from you? I was beginning to think you’d lost your voice, what with all the texts I get.”
Sun cringed. “I’m sorry, Nancy. Turns out, sheriffing is a full-time gig. Who knew?”
“I’m so proud of you, Sun.”
“Thanks, love. But you and I both know I didn’t do a thing.” Nancy was one of the few people Sun had trusted enough to tell the truth about the election.
“Doesn’t make it any less awesome. Oh!” she said before lowering her voice and asking, “Is this about the you-know-what?”
Sun took a swig of coffee for courage, and said, “Yes, it is. Have you had a chance—”
“I have.”
Normally Sun’s stomach was made of stouter stuff, but it lurched at the thought of what was about to be revealed. “And … was there a match?”
“There was.”
Sun fought a wave of dizziness and chalked it up to her hangover when really it had more to do with the fact that Wynn was lying. He had to be. Somehow, he knew all—or most—of the sordid details of that night fifteen years ago, but the more Sun thought about it, the less she believed him.
If he really did know Kubrick’s accomplice, he could’ve gotten everything from him. And with Levi’s ID bracelet clutched in Kubrick Ravinder’s hand, there was almost no way Levi was not involved. She just didn’t know to what degree. Nor to what end.
Nancy rustled some papers, then asked, “Are you ready for this?”
“As I’ll ever be.” She held her breath as Nancy spoke.
“You were right. The blood on Kubrick Ravinder’s jacket belonged to another Ravinder.”
Sun’s lids drifted shut.
“His brother. Wynn Ravinder.”
Sun sat silent for a solid minute, blinking back the encroaching darkness. He hadn’t been lying.
When she didn’t respond, Nancy continued. “Seems he’s an inmate in the Arizona State Pen. Do you know him?”
She sank against the back of her chair. “We’ve only recently become acquainted.”
“Well, there’s about a gallon of blood that places him at that crime scene.”
“And …and you’re sure?” Sun asked.
“Admittedly, DNA evidence is not as exact a science as the public would believe, but yeah. He’s your guy, Sun. No