Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)(27)

Michael scoffed and tipped his head to the walls of her home. They were thick with framed family photos. “Can’t frame everything.”

“But I can try.” She snagged that photo, sighing as she regarded the shot of the men grilling. “The barbecue was the day after Thomas went to that party. I remember it now.” She traced a shaking finger across the bags under his father’s eyes. “He was so tired as they’d been up real late. He and your mother went to a work function.”

Michael sat up straighter. That’s what Annalise had mentioned. “The party,” Michael hissed. “That’s what I want to see. Do you think anyone took pictures of the party?”

“Not me. I wasn’t there.”

“But what if my dad had them? If someone had taken pictures from the work party…” He let his voice trail off, desperate hope coloring his tone.

She gestured to the pile. “Let’s hunt.”

He wanted to find those photos. He grabbed the next chunk of pictures and methodically studied each one. There was no reason to believe there would be pictures of a party here in his grandma’s home, but she saved everything, so there was always a chance. If someone had taken pictures at the event, his dad might have held onto them…

His heart stopped, then started again. He’d found it. A shot of his mother and father in front of a work banner at a company party for West Limos. Flipping to the back, he checked the date. Yep. The year it all went down. He gripped the edge of the photo as dark anger coiled through him. His mother took from him the person he loved most. His insides churned viciously as he studied the two of them. But it was only them posing for the camera, like some kind of company photographer had shot a picture.

He flicked to the next one. A foursome. Sanders and Becky stood next to his parents. Sanders clutched his wife’s shoulder tightly, and she smiled for the camera. Michael’s eyes roamed to his mother. He saw her looking to the right, just outside the frame.

Determined to follow her gaze somehow, he tore through the other pictures from the party. All in front of the banner, each one a little farther over, like the photographer was moving sideways. There were only a few more. As he lined them up, he could tell where his mother’s eyes had drifted just beyond the edge of the banner.

To a man playing a piano.

Luke Carlton.

Was Annalise right? Had his mother met her lover at his father’s work party? Why would Luke be at a work party?

“I need to talk to Sanders again. See if he remembers anything from that night. Anything about Luke talking to my dad, maybe. Anything that could make it clear what role he played.”

But when he called Sanders a little later from the car, his dad’s old friend didn’t answer.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Michael rapped on the window outside the detective’s office. John Winston sat in his chair with his back to him, talking on the phone. He swiveled around, holding up a finger to ask Michael to wait.

As John wrapped up his call, Michael jammed his hands into his pockets, tension curling his muscles tight as the sounds of the police department filtered from behind him—the crackle of the radio, phone calls about cases, the shuffling of papers.

John nodded, then laughed, and at last hung up the phone. He rose, opened the door, and let Michael in.

“How’s everything?” John asked, clicking the door shut.

“It’s fine.” The two of them weren’t known for their small talk, so Michael took a seat in the wooden chair offered him.

“What have you got?” John asked. After Sanders didn’t pick up, Michael had called John to tell him he had some details to share.

“Are you any closer to getting Luke? Closer to getting T.J?”

John sighed and scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “We’re working on it every day. We’re doing everything we can.”

Frustration slid through Michael’s veins at how goddamn easily Luke Carlton had glided through life, avoiding arrest, covering his tracks, operating as a criminal so far undercover. “I don’t know if it’s a long shot, but I think”—he stopped, pausing before he said his mother’s name because it tasted acrid—“Dora Prince met Luke at a work party,” he said, then showed the detective the photos.

John nodded several times. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“You think I’m right?” Michael repeated, because he was hoping for something more.

“I’ve got similar information.”

“So this isn’t news to you?”

“I’ve been working leads on this case for a long time. This is one of them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that’s how they met?”

“Because it’s not my job to tell you every detail. This is a police investigation. I’m grateful for all you do—don’t get me wrong. But I’ve got to be able to investigate, and sharing every detail with the family can slow me down on the way to answers.” He took a beat and then leveled his gaze at Michael. “The answers we both want.”

“Fine,” Michael said, reminding himself that even though John was the gatekeeper, they had the same end goal. So he tamped down his annoyance. “Let’s put our heads together, then. I’ve got some thoughts.”

John nodded. “What’s on your mind?”