She blinked once, twice. “I’m here with Mr. Cortez.”

Cortez stared but kept his mouth shut.

“He believes Alice has run away from home, and since she is the student I’m personally mentoring, I felt compelled to assist him. She’s been very upset since the Myers tragedy.”

Falco glanced around the parking area. “Where’s your driver? Your security?”

Warren’s perfectly polished facade cracked just a little, showed a flash of frustration. “Again, why are you two here?”

Sykes’s car rolled into the lot. Cross followed in the yellow Beetle.

“My daughter, Tori, is missing,” Kerri said. “She was last seen with Alice Cortez. An Uber driver brought them here.”

Cortez said something in Spanish to Warren. She ignored him, but recognition registered in her eyes. She understood.

“Let’s get out of this doorway,” Warren suggested, stepping forward and forcing Kerri and Falco to back away.

Determined to get inside, Kerri walked around the obstacle the two made and entered the maintenance shed.

Warren called out something about a warrant, but Kerri ignored her. She didn’t bother explaining that they had exigent circumstances. Warren was an attorney; she knew this.

Nylon ropes and a wrinkled cloth lay on the floor. Judging by the short strips of nylon rope, someone had been bound with it. Fury knotted in Kerri’s gut. She stormed back out just in time to see Sykes and Peterson marching toward the first of the three warehouses.

Cortez hustled after them, shouting about the need for a warrant. At the door, Sykes paused long enough to say, “Exigent circumstances, my friend. A child is missing, and this was her last known location.”

Grateful tears welled in Kerri’s eyes. She had to find her daughter. She started toward the second of the three warehouses. Warren ordered Falco to call the chief of police.

Cortez rushed back to the mayor, speaking in Spanish to her once more. This time Warren responded in kind. Her tone was far from the mesmerizing, sophisticated one she generally used. Instead it verged on feral and was filled with warning, the cadence clipped. As her volume and the intensity of her voice rose, the words obviously grew increasingly threatening.

Sadie Cross moved up beside Falco, her head canted as if she were deciphering the exchange between Cortez and Warren. Considering her past undercover work, she probably was. She no doubt had an excellent command of the language they were using.

Kerri told herself to move, to hurry into the waiting warehouse . . . Tori was here somewhere, but something—call it intuition—held her frozen in place. She couldn’t stop staring at the woman she’d watched charm the city with her benevolence and brilliance . . . the one she had admired so much.

Warren abruptly stopped speaking. She stared at Sadie.

“I know your voice,” Sadie said, her tone accusing.

Her expression icy cold, Warren demanded, “And who are you?”

Cortez ran for his SUV.

“You were part of Carlos Osorio’s organization. You were the one . . .”—Sadie took a step toward the mayor—“the one who gave the orders.”

Falco, his phone clutched to his ear, fell silent.

“Are you insane?” Warren demanded; she glanced around. “Who is this woman?”

“You’re the one,” Sadie said, her voice dark with rage. “The one Walsh was looking for. The power—here—who supports the cartel.” She nodded. “Just now”—she pointed a finger at the other woman—“when you snapped orders at your minion . . . not the cultured, smooth voice you use to hide behind. This voice . . . this is the real you.”

A scream echoed in the morning air, reverberating from the woods and between the buildings until the sound pierced Kerri’s very soul. “Tori!” Her heart flailed helplessly in her chest.

Kerri bolted toward the woods, in the direction of the sound.

By the time she reached the tree line, Falco was racing ahead of her. Kerri shouted her daughter’s name. A responding cry of “Mom” rang out.

Kerri ran faster, her pulse pounding in time with her frantic pace.

The roar of the river in the distance seemed to muffle all else. Blood roaring in her ears, Kerri paused to listen for anything else from her daughter.

Where was she?

Please, please, please let her be okay.

“This way!”

Kerri jerked toward the sound of Falco’s voice. He lunged deeper into the woods, straight for the river.

The underbrush slapped at her legs, but Kerri didn’t slow. She darted between and around trees. “Tori!”

“Mom!”

Kerri’s brain instantly analyzed her daughter’s voice. Terror. Extreme agitation.

Was she okay? Kerri spotted her then. Ten . . . fifteen yards ahead. Her daughter stood among the waist-deep underbrush, her face pale, her body shaking like a leaf fluttering in an icy wind.

Falco reached Tori first.

He dropped to his knees, and the fear already strangling Kerri tightened like a vise. Was Tori injured? Kerri couldn’t see any blood. She lunged faster through the brush.

She pushed past Falco and threw her arms around her daughter. “Are you okay?”

Tori sobbed so hard Kerri could barely understand the confirmation that she was okay. She ran her hands over her daughter’s arms and legs, her slim waist, and shuddering chest. “You’re sure you’re not injured.”

The relief rushing through Kerri almost undid her.

“I’m okay.” Tori stared down at where Falco still crouched. “She was going to kill me.”

Kerri spotted dark hair tangled in the bushes. The air fled her lungs. She leaned to one side to see beyond Falco.

Alice Cortez.

Was she hurt? A knife lay next to her, but there was no blood.

“She was chasing me with the knife and she fell,” Tori cried. “She hit her head on that log. She won’t wake up.”

Kerri pulled her daughter close. “You’re okay now.” What the hell happened out here?

Tori drew back, stared up at her mother. “Violet was here too. The girl from Walker Academy. She was tied up in that shed. Alice was going to kill her too.”

“She’s breathing,” Falco muttered, then pulled out his cell and called for paramedics.

Alice moved a little, moaned. She was alive.

Pulse racing, Kerri searched Tori’s tearstained face. “Where is Violet?”