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Dominic was so proud to have Presley on his arm. Several of his firefighters were in attendance, and many pulled him aside to ask who she was and how he’d gotten so lucky. It hurt to admit she was a friend in town for a few days.

Many people remembered her from high school, and others had heard about the ordeal with Eddie Smith. Everyone wanted to talk to her.

No matter who she met, she was gracious and personable. His crew vied for her attention. He wanted to fight them off. Dom saw how the men leered at her and didn’t plan on letting her out of his sight. She was his, if only for a short time.

Jessie fluttered around the room, constantly with a glass in her hand. The waitstaff kept the alcohol flowing, and he wondered how many she’d imbibed already. Sam needed to stage an intervention, but Dom feared he didn’t care enough to do so. Presley had been right about her possibly harming someone else. It was irresponsible and dangerous.

He glanced over and spotted a woman doing her best to blend in with the wallpaper. He nudged Presley, and she followed his gaze.

“Tamera.” She gasped and hurried over to the woman.

Tamera jerked her head up and flashed a relieved smile. “Pep.”

Kayne chuckled behind him. “That’s her new nickname.”

Presley slugged her coworker again. With a wince, Kayne rubbed his arm. She was incredibly strong. Dom knew it had hurt.

“What was it before?”

“Elvis.”

That tracked. It was impossible to hear Presley without Elvis.

#

Tamera’s eyes widened when she spotted Presley, and she hugged her. “Oh, my gosh, it’s so good to see a familiar face. These people are so far out of my league. I feel like a fish out of water.”

“I’m glad you and Jessie are friends again,” Presley told her

The slight wince was a telling sign. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Aren’t you staying with her?”

“Yes, but it’s hard to converse with a drunk.”

Presley didn’t have a response to that.

“Sam has been very welcoming, though.”

Presley tried not to gape when Tamera adjusted her surgically-enhanced chest. Did she mean what Presley thought she did? Had Tamera slept with Sam under Jessie’s nose? Before she could ask questions, a woman came over to them.

“Dominic, Ms. Parrish, good to see you again.”

“Hi, Val,” Dominic said.

Presley shook her hand. “Please, call me Presley. This is my friend—”

“Kayne. We’ve met. He’s my parking buddy.”

Val shook his hand, holding on longer than necessary.

Presley raised her brows at him. How had he met the ME? She tapped Tamera’s shoulder. “This is Tamera Watts.”

Val studied Tamera. “The name sounds familiar . . .” She snapped her fingers. “Now I remember. I have a note to call you. Dwight Grubb fell ill at your house.”

Tamera flinched. “Yeah, he did.”

“I regret to inform you he passed away.”

Shock crossed Tamera’s features before she muttered, “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“I was told potential heart attack, but that wasn’t the cause.”

“No?” Tamera’s gaze darted around the room.

“He was poisoned.”

Tamera gasped, and all the color leeched from her face until she was as white as a ghost. She backed up with a hand on her chest. “Well, I didn’t do it.”

“I’m sorry,” Val apologized. “I didn’t mean to imply that you did. The investigation is in the initial stages.”

“Excuse me.” Tamera scurried away.

“Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to offend her,” Val said. “I was told to inform her about the cause of death.”

“I’ll go after her.”

Presley started to follow Tamera, but Val’s hand on her arm stopped her. “Please, let me. I need to apologize.”

Presley wanted to argue, but Val had already disappeared out the door.

Once the medical examiner was gone, Kayne said, “This might not be the greatest timing, but I did some digging on Tamera and Jessie. I was looking for clues about who the perp might be. Did you know Tamera was accused of poisoning her second husband?”

Presley’s eyes widened. “What? No.”

“I’d forgotten about that,” Dominic said. “It was big news at the time. She was eventually acquitted.”

“Poor Tamera,” Presley murmured. “I wonder what happened with Mr. Grubb.”

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that he fell ill at her house?” Kayne wondered.

“Are you implying she poisoned him?”

“No. I’m thinking someone meant for her to be the victim.”

That made sense. “Bill Fitzgerald visited her. He could’ve done it. I’ll have to ask Val how it happened next time I see her.”

Dominic clapped his hands. “I’m starving. Let’s hit the buffet.”

Presley hadn’t been in many houses—or any—that sported a gigantic ballroom. An orchestra strummed away on a stage at the far end of the room. The selection of food was varied and plentiful. Presley had never seen a spread as big outside of a restaurant. Prime rib, steak, lobster, fried chicken, several other meats and fish, every side dish she could think of, and at least a dozen fresh breads. It was a smorgasbord of food. The Kings had spared no expense.

They loaded their plates and found an empty table. Servers instantly appeared to offer red or white wine, imported beer, and sodas.

Sam King worked the room, shaking hands and slapping backs. Presley hadn’t seen Jessie in a while and wondered if she’d lured someone else to her lair like she’d tried to do with Kayne earlier.

“Hey, Cap Bianchi, care if we join you? Hi, Presley.”

“Hey, Rena.”

“Have a seat,” Dominic said to the woman and others who joined them.

Presley remembered Garrett McGee from her first day in town when she’d stopped by the station. Dominic introduced her and Kayne to Charlie Gardner and his wife, and Teddy Cony and his wife. The conversation was lively, and the food was delicious.

“Did anyone try the lobster?” Rena asked the table. “It melted in the mouth.”

“I did,” Presley answered. “Delicious.”

“I’m headed back for more. Can I get anyone anything?”

Everyone declined. With a shrug, Rena picked up her plate and disappeared into the buffet line. A dreadful squeal sounded, and Presley winced.

“Sorry,” Sam King spoke into a microphone. “That feedback is a wake-up call, huh? Anyway, I wanted to thank you all for coming tonight. The festivities will begin in thirty minutes. Please enjoy the food, beverages, and music from the Serenity Shores String Quartet. Aren’t they wonderful?” At the small spattering of applause, he added, “We’ll begin soon.”

Sam stepped off the dais, smiled, and waved. He headed their way and grasped Dominic from behind.

“Hey, bud, glad you could make it. Means the world to me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Sam released Dominic and took her hand. “My God, Presley, you are a vision.”

“Thanks.”

When he didn’t seem like he was going to let go, she yanked her hand free.

Sam commandeered an empty seat from a neighboring table, spun it around, scooted it between her and Dominic, and sat down. “These events wear me out.”

“Have you eaten?” asked Presley.

“No, and damn, it looks delicious.”

“Grab a plate and join us,” Dominic offered.

“I think I will.”

Sam stood, and they followed for seconds. Presley wanted more of the fluffy mashed potatoes.

When they returned to the table, Sam dug into the prime rib. “My gosh, this is tasty.” He looked over at Presley. “Have you seen my wife lately? She’s supposed to start the show in fifteen minutes.”

“I haven’t.” Presley glanced around, but there was no sign of Jessie or her flashy red dress.

“She’s probably off screwing the busboy,” Sam mused around bites of food. He didn’t sound the least bit upset.

Presley couldn’t imagine what kept them together when they so obviously despised each other. They both apparently slept around. Neither cared. She supposed it was for appearances. Dominic told her they hosted a few of these events yearly and raised money for several charitable causes. Maybe that was enough for them. Still, it would probably be easier to divorce now and go on with their lives, but what did she know? She’d never been married.

When the time rolled around to start the event, and there was no sign of Jessie, Presley began to worry. Sam cursed a blue streak and shoved his chair back from the table.

“That’s it. I’m divorcing the bitch.” He stomped to the stage.

Presley searched the room again but didn’t see Jessie or Tamera. “I’m going to look for her,” Presley said.

“I’ll come with you,” Dominic offered.

“Me too,” supplied Kayne.

“We should split up to cover the mansion,” Presley decided. “I’ll take this first floor. Kayne, you search the second, and Dominic, you’ve got the third where the kids are staying. Call if you find anything.”

With nods, they spread out. Presley opened every door she came to and stuck her head in each nook and cranny. She encountered dozens of staff workers but no Jessie. When she reached the back of the house where the laundry and mud room were located, something sharp poked her in the back. She knew from her years in the military and law enforcement that it was a gun. Before she could turn, a voice whispered, “Do not make a sound, and don’t worry. I’m a friend, not a foe. Walk out the door as if nothing is amiss.”

She tried to place the voice. It was female. She wasn’t worried since she could disarm the person in seconds, and they didn’t seem to want to kill her immediately, so she would buy her time. An opportunity to overtake her would come. Presley would be ready for it.

“Open the door.”

Presley did as instructed and felt a sharp pain in her back that seized her muscles, dropping her to her knees.

“Get up, Presley.”

She pushed to her feet, but it wasn’t easy. Her limbs didn’t want to cooperate. It was dark when she stepped outside. A few lights glowed in the back of the house, but she couldn’t focus. “Who are you?”

“I’m not here to hurt you, Presley. We’re kindred souls, you and I. What I have in store for you will finally bring you closure.”

Presley’s legs felt like jello, and she tripped down the deck steps, grabbing the rail to break her fall. As it was, she landed on her back and looked up into the sky. She was shocked when a person stepped into her view, and she stared into the face of Dr. Val Anders.