Fifty

Yuma, Arizona

“I want you to follow him.”

Sabrina stood at the second-floor window of their conference room watching Vega climb into the passenger seat of his lawyer’s Audi R8 Spyder. Reverse lights flashed a second before the convertible sped off, blowing the stop sign without even so much as a cursory brake tap.

Douche bag.

As soon as the car disappeared, she turned away from the window to find Church sitting at the long, heavy table, feet kicked up, a pile of papers in her lap. “Did you hear me, Church? I said—”

“I’ve been following him since yesterday afternoon, Kitten,” Church said without so much as a glance in her direction. A slight smirk brushed across her mouth. “Or at least I’ve been following his cell phone.”

Of course she had. “And?”

“And …” Church shuffled through the papers on her lap, exchanging them for the journal that was buried underneath. “Nothing. No incriminating phone calls. No trips to his cozy, out-of-
the-way, serial-killer lair,” she said, finally looking up. “Maybe he’s not the guy.”

Sabrina was beginning to wonder the same thing but she shook her head. “Or maybe he’s just smart enough to leave his phone at home.”

Church shrugged. “Sorry,” she said, flipping the journal open. “It’s the best I can do.”

“I’ve seen your best,” she said, annoyance sharpening her tone. She needed to catch Vega in the act, and as much as it pained her to admit it, she’d need Church’s help to do it. “This isn’t it.”

“Okay,” Church said, flipping through the journal’s pages. “It’s all I’m willing to do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I’m not here to catch a killer,” Church said, running her finger down the length of the page before turning it. “You’re here to catch a killer. I’m here to make sure Livingston Shaw doesn’t send his T-1000s to Sarah Connor your ass.”

Hearing Shaw’s name reminded her of the man in the stairwell. The same one in the church this morning. He’d been following her, she was sure of it. She opened her mouth to tell Church but quickly changed her mind. If she told Church, she’d do her job—which, according to her, was kill half of Yuma and haul Sabrina back to Montana. As much as she wanted to go home, she couldn’t. Not until she nailed Vega to the wall. As for her newly acquired shadow—she’d take care of him on her own.

You sure you want to go home, darlin’? What’s there, anyway? A man who resents you for getting his sister killed? A couple of kids who hardly talk to you? Hell, even the dog would be better off without you.

“Without Graciella Lopez, I’m not sure how I’m going to do that,” she said carefully.

Church looked up and smiled. “I’m not going to Mexico.” She glanced back down at the page she was reading, running her finger down the length of it. “And neither are you.”

“You let me meet Croft on my own,” she said in a complaining tone so irritating it made her want to kick her own ass. “And nothing happened.”

“Did I?” Church said, a you’re adorable smirk on her downturned face, telling her what she already suspected. Church had been following her last night. Probably snatched Croft the second she left him at the truck stop.

“She needs to be found, Courtney.”

Church laughed, her finger stopping midpage. “Using my first name to capitalize on our perceived relationship—you must be serious.”

“This is serious, you sociopath.” Sabrina’s gaze swept across the table, settling on the box next to Church’s feet. “He killed another girl last night, only this one must’ve really pissed him off because he set her on fire after he punched a hole in her skull.”

“We’ll find him, Sabrina,” Church said to her, her tone suddenly serious. “We just have to keep digging.”

“All the digging in the world isn’t going to give us what we need, which, just in case you missed it, is Nulo’s real name,” she said, her frustration spiking. “Right now, I don’t have anything but a bunch of half-baked speculations. That means all we can do is wait for this asshole to kill again and hope we get lucky. That’s not something I’m willing to do.”

“I can’t help you,” Church said.

“You won’t help me,” she said quietly. “Big difference.”

“I operate within the parameters I’m given, Kitten.” Church shook her head. “Ben understands that about me … which is why he left me very little wiggle room.”

“Then call him.” Ben wouldn’t drop this case in her lap and then tie her hands completely. He wouldn’t do that.

You sure about that? That kid’s as slick as a greased pig. Maybe he didn’t send you here. Maybe he lured you here …

Church sighed. “I told you—”

“You’re lying.” Now she did shout, and the sound of her voice picked up a few heads beyond the conference room window—curious detectives inside the bullpen, aiming their attention straight at her. She took a deep breath, walking toward the window. “He wouldn’t push you out of the plane without a parachute,” she said, her tone level as she twirled the wand attached to the blinds until they closed. “Someone with your skill, your lack of morality—you’re too valuable to a person like Ben.” She turned, nailing Church with an icy glare. “He’d give you a back door. And you’re going to use it.”