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that had him tearing up. Even though he wouldn’t cry about it, it was the necklace.
    It couldn’t be anything else—it wasn’t like he needed to cry about that bastard King’s place, or the fire, or the trouble he could be in.
    Nobody knew.
    And he hadn’t meant for it to happen …
    Swallowing the tears that clogged his throat, he wished he could go and talk to Uncle Remy.
    Or even his dad, although Dad barely even realized he was alive anymore.
    Most of all, Brody wished he could talk to his mom. Wished she was there. Wished she was there to wrap her arms around him, tell him everything would be okay.
    Even though he knew nothing would ever be okay again.
    Not for him.
    Nothing had been right for him since she died, and he didn’t see that changing any time soon.

CHAPTER
FOUR
     
    “R UN THAT BY ME AGAIN , M R . J ENNINGS ?”
    “I’m just looking for more information on your ex-wife’s past,” Remy said, keeping his voice level.
    Although honestly, he didn’t know how much more information he needed, or even what he was looking for—or why. Even if Hope
had
been involved, he wouldn’t have to go this far. He just couldn’t help himself.
    Officially
, Hope Carson was no longer his concern.
    He just, hell, he couldn’t leave it alone. He didn’t even know why, but he couldn’t leave it alone. Couldn’t leave
her
alone.
    “Just how much more do you want me to share?” Carson said, sadly, softly. “I’ve already shared far more than I feel comfortable with. What else do you want from me?”
    Remy sighed and spun around in his chair, staring out the window. “I just need to know everything I can. The more I know, the more I can help her.”
    “Oh, bullshit.” Carson laughed, but even over the phone, there was no mistaking the complete lack of humor in the sound. “Don’t hand me that. It’s not
help
you want from me. You just want me to give you thenails to close her coffin. I won’t do that. Not to my wife.”
    The phone went dead.
    Remy softly murmured, “Ex-wife.”
    Then, as a knock sounded on his office door, he hung up.
    “Come in,” he called out.
    The last person he expected to see was Brody.
    The subdued kid came into his office looking like somebody had kicked a puppy—and he was the puppy.
    Remy eyed his nephew, wondering where that brash, borderline mean attitude had gone. “You okay, Brody?”
    “Yeah.” He gave a jerky shrug and roamed the office, absently jiggling the change in his pocket, the same way Remy did when he was nervous or distracted.
    Remy no longer carried change in his pockets for that very reason. Little things like that tripped up a man in court. Showing any nerves, tension—not wise.
    Brody stopped in front of the desk, scuffing his feet on the carpet. “You haven’t seen Mom’s necklace, have you? I can’t find it. That stupid chain went and broke.”
    Ah …
Suddenly understanding the woebegone look in the kid’s eyes, Remy leaned back in his chair. “No. I can’t say I have, at least not that I can recall. How long has it been since you saw it?”
    “A few days.” Despondent, Brody flung his long, skinny body down in one of the leather chairs and stared off into nothingness.
    “Remember when you saw it last?”
    Brody huffed out a breath. “Shit. How the hell do I know? After I showered one morning, I guess. Then it wasn’t there.” His gaze met Remy’s, then bounced away, never resting any place for longer than a few seconds.
    “You talked to your dad?”
    “No.”
    And just like that, Brody shut down. Crossing hisarms over his skinny chest, he shot up out of the chair. “I guess I better get. You’ve got lawyer shit to do around here.”
    “Brody …”
    The kid paused at the door.
    Remy sighed. “Hell. I’ll keep an eye out, ask around.” It wouldn’t do any good, but he felt like there was something he should do. Say. “Maybe it will turn up.”
    Brody nodded and then pushed through the door, his head bent, narrow shoulders