“Will do.”

Sadie reassured Naomi once more that she would be in good hands, and then she headed for Eighteenth Street.

DEA Field Office

Eighteenth Street

Birmingham, 4:15 p.m.

Beyond the intimidating fence and the fortresslike security, the old man’s office was on the third floor of the austere building.

Security always looked at Sadie suspiciously and called the special agent in charge’s assistant before allowing her up. This ensured her father—if he was in the office—would be ready and waiting for her.

She hated that part.

Surprise visits were always the best.

Catching him off guard was a difficult thing to do.

Rather than board the elevator, Sadie took the stairs. He would be braced for all hell to break loose. She hadn’t come to his office in a really long while. The last time, she’d been so angry about the way he’d stuck his nose in her personal business she’d swiped all the shit off his desk and then walked out.

She wasn’t sure what she could do now—without a weapon—to top the look on his face when his papers and other crap had flown across the room. His assistant had hovered outside the door, prepared to call security on his command.

Security had not been called.

Mason Cross wouldn’t have wanted the embarrassing episode to leak beyond his office area.

Instead, he’d asked Sadie to leave and return when she had calmed down.

Sadie hadn’t gone back. That was maybe fifteen months ago. Once in a while he showed up at her door. She didn’t answer. Why would she? She wanted nothing from him. Not his advice, his pretense at affection, or any damned thing else.

“Good afternoon, Sadie,” Francine Wright said as Sadie entered her domain—the small lobby outside her father’s office. “He’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” She had nothing against the woman. Wright couldn’t help that she worked for an asshole.

Sadie opened the door and walked into the boss’s office.

“Sadie, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Smiling broadly, he skirted his desk, arms open as if he intended to hug her.

She drew back when he tried. “Your boy Darius broke into the house of a friend of mine. Why?”

Mason Cross frowned as if he hadn’t a clue what she meant. “I haven’t utilized Washburn’s services in quite some time. Is your friend all right?”

Like he gave a shit. “Naomi Taylor. Asher Walsh’s aunt. I would be stunned if you didn’t know about it. Aren’t your people heading the task force working that case?”

“We are, yes,” he allowed as he settled against the edge of his desk. “Why would this aunt have anything to do with the case?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask Darius.”

Her father shook his head. “As I said—”

“I know what you said,” Sadie cut him off. “I’m telling you it was him, and I know you sent him, whether you choose to tell the truth or not.”

He exhaled a big breath. “How are you? You’ve been avoiding my calls and visits for what? Nearly a year now?”

“I’m fine.” She stared directly into his dark eyes. He would never know how happy it made her that she had her mother’s eyes. Her nose, mouth, and just about every damned thing else. She looked nothing like this bastard.

“That’s your stock answer,” he reminded her. “I’m interested in how you really are.”

Like he cared. “Do not mess with Naomi Taylor again.”

When she turned to go, he said, “You should stay clear of this investigation, Sadie. This is not going to end well.”

“It already ended badly,” she tossed back. “Asher Walsh is dead.”

Rather than wait for him to make some other lame comment, she walked out. Gave Wright a nod and headed for the elevator. A few minutes with Mason Cross and she was ready to flee.

She slid behind the wheel of her Saab and fished for a cigarette. She tucked it into the corner of her mouth and lit up. He knew better than to suggest she walk away from a case or any damned thing else. She always finished whatever she started.

Except that once with the Osorio op.

But that hadn’t been because she’d walked away. She’d been taken away, drugged, tortured. Otherwise she would have finished that too.

She started the engine and drove to the gate, waited for the bar to rise, then pulled out of the parking lot.

Her cell vibrated against the console, and she grabbed it. Barton. “Make me happy.”

“I found what our intruder was probably looking for. A thumb drive. I plugged it into my laptop, and whatever is on this thing, it’s going to take someone above my pay grade to break into it.”

“Take it to Snipes. Tell him I need whatever’s on it ASAP.”

“On my way.”

Sadie tossed her phone aside. Why the hell would Walsh keep something so important from her? Had he been protecting her? His aunt? Or someone else?

Whatever the answer, she needed it . . . now.

25

7:15 p.m.

Devlin Residence

Twenty-First Avenue South

Birmingham

Lieutenant Brooks had been out of his office all afternoon, and he hadn’t taken calls on his cell. Kerri had wanted to talk with him about the carjacking and Sue’s murder. She’d gone to the Redmond residence in hopes of speaking with Violet’s parents, but the media had been all over the place, along with an official BPD cruiser.

Her frustration had hit overload. She’d had to close all of it out of her head, at least for a few hours.

She decided to focus on dinner and some quality time with Tori. She prepared an old reliable: spaghetti. She and Tori both loved it. When Tori was a toddler, Kerri had made it almost every day.

But her little girl wasn’t a toddler anymore, and she was hurting.

Sarah Talley had tried to commit suicide. The girl had taken an overdose of her mother’s sleeping pills. Fortunately, her mother had discovered what she’d done in time to avoid the worst. Sarah would remain in the hospital for observation and a psych evaluation for the next seventy-two hours.

For Tori, this was a stunning blow. Fear, hurt, and anger were no doubt tearing her apart.

Additionally troubling was that Tori didn’t want to talk about it.

A truly frustrating and infuriating part for Kerri was that Sykes hadn’t called to let her know. She’d had to find out from Diana when she picked up Tori. At this point, Kerri was so angry with Sykes and Peterson she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to work with either one again. On top of that she was absolutely terrified by the idea that she had shared the story she’d learned from Sue Grimes with the LT, and now Sue was dead, and very possibly the student to whom she had been referring was missing. It was far too big a coincidence to be just any Walker student gone missing. It had to be the anonymous girl.