EIGHTY-FIVE

I couldn’t figure out which direction the sound came from. But when a second shot echoed across the lot, a car horn began to blare—and didn’t stop.

The noise came from a line of vehicles two rows away, and I soon found the sedan making the racket. I also discovered the reason the horn continued blaring.

Toby Mullins was slumped in the driver’s seat. I only knew it was him because I recognized the tweedy brown sport coat. What was left of his head was jammed into the steering wheel, setting off the horn.

I saw something else, too. A left-handed woman’s glove sat on the dashboard. It was tan leather and looked exactly like a match for my glove—the one with the bloodstain, the one the police took into evidence after I woke up on that park bench.

I stumbled backward, until my rear was pressed against another sedan. Then I looked up and saw a man staring at me. He was three car lengths away, and my fake glasses were dotted with raindrops, but I would have recognized Stevens anywhere.

The head of security at the Parkview Palace hotel stood frozen in place. Then our eyes met, and he bolted like a fat mouse who’d spied a hungry tigress.

“Stop!” I cried.

Of course, Stevens didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. And, really, why the heck should he?

I chased after him anyway, pushing aside the fact that he had a gun and had just shot a man in the head—twice. I was so outraged that I refused to see reason. I just couldn’t let this man get away!

I didn’t plan on confronting him, but I did intend to see what vehicle he used to drive off. The sooner the police apprehended him, the more likely he’d still have the murder weapon on him.

I ran as fast as I could. Huffing and puffing and jolting my wig crooked, I was happy to see my effort was paying off. Matt had been correct in his physical assessment of the guy. Stevens had packed on a few too many pounds for this sort of urban sprint.

In desperation to get clear of me, Stevens ducked behind a Driftwood Coffee supply van and I lost sight of him.

Certain I had gotten the best of the man, I circled the coffee truck and ran down a short alley that led to a hotel loading dock.

Abruptly, I stopped in my tracks. I was flanked by overstuffed dumpsters on either side, and the smell was not pleasant. Other than garbage, the narrow dead end was empty.

I’d made a wrong turn. If Stevens came back, he would discover that I was the one cornered. Heart racing, I spun around and ran back toward the parking lot. As I circled that Driftwood van again, I ran smack into the strong arms of a tall man.

I was about to scream my head off when I realized the arms belonged to Detective Quinn. Mr. Dante was with him.

“It’s Stevens!” I cried. “The head of security for the Parkview hotel. He shot a man named Toby Mullins, who was working for Tessa Simmons. I found Mullins dead in his car, shot through the head. Then I chased Stevens, but he got away.”

I paused for a breath. “Listen. You can hear the horn. It’s still blowing! And a woman’s leather glove was on the dashboard. It looked exactly like the one I lost during the abduction. I’m sure it’s my glove! It’s the evidence we need!”

The detective seized my shoulders. “Calm down, Clare. You’re safe. It’s over.”

Quinn was right. I took some deep breaths, and my rapid heartbeat began to slow. My knees were still weak, but I was okay.

Quinn straightened my blond wig. “Do you feel faint? Should I grab my EMT bag?”

“No!” I firmly shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“Good. Dante will get you out of here.”

“What do you mean? Where should we go?”

“Back to the Village Blend, where you can hide in plain sight, just like we planned. Keep wearing your disguise. Use the back entrance and the service stairs, and you’ll be fine.”

“But don’t you need me as a witness?”

“There are security cameras all over that parking lot. Those cameras are the witness. Now, go.”

I hesitated. “But—”

“Dante, get her out of here!”

Then Quinn was off, calling in the murder while he ran toward the car with Toby Mullins’s corpse.