ABBY DIDN’T BELIEVE for a second that Stuart Napier wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. He’d not hesitated to shoot Orson, and she doubted his story that he was the victim in all of this. She wished she’d talked to Victoria herself and that she knew a little bit more about what made Stuart tick.

He placed two boxes on a table next to the car. He pulled a towel, a container of hand soap, and two large bottles of water out of one of the boxes and put them on the table. Next he placed two towels, two tubs, and two more towels on the table. He took off his shirt and hung it on a hook on the side of the container.

He poured water into the tubs, squirted soap all over himself, and began to wash his arms and chest in the first tub. When he was finished, he rinsed off in the second tub, then dried off using one of the towels. Then he went back to the first tub and began to trim his beard using scissors. When he’d cut it as close as he could, he lathered up and shaved.

The end result still didn’t make him look exactly like the wanted poster Abby remembered, but close. His dark hair was a good disguise. Dried off, he opened the car door and took out another shirt and put it on. He seemed to have forgotten Abby was in the room as he started humming and straightening up everything he’d just used.

Luke left the little house to face an angry deputy rubbing his wrist.

Van Horne stepped between them.

“You’re lucky, Murphy. Lucky I don’t place you under arrest right now,” the deputy said.

“He’s my friend and my partner,” Luke said before turning to Van Horne. “What are the chances you’ll get that thing off his neck?”

“We’re working on it. I hear you talked to Victoria Napier.”

“I did.”

“What did she tell you about her husband? How on earth did you find him here?”

Luke put his hand on his hips and took a deep breath. He had to get the emotions out of it, the concern for Abby and Woody. He wanted them both safe, and he needed to think clearly.

“She worked out a formula, something she made up, and plugged in what she knew about her husband, and then she gave us a list of wineries to check out. This was the last one on the list.”

“Where is she now?”

Luke shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe still in Long Beach?”

Several officers interested in what he had to say surrounded him.

“We’ve tried to find her and haven’t had any luck.”

“I talked to her today.” He pulled out his phone and read the number he had for Victoria. The officers exchanged looks.

“Murphy.” An agent came out of the trailer with a cell phone in his hand. “Purcell at the hospital wants to talk to you.”

Luke took the phone and asked Purcell, “Is Orson all right?”

“He came out of surgery all right. Faye Fallon is here with him now. We’re waiting for him to come around. I need some information from you. Where is Victoria Napier?”

“I just told your people here I have no idea.”

“Agents just went to her hotel. She’s gone, packed up and left. The number we found for her on Orson’s phone is not a good number. Do you have a way to contact her?”

Luke’s head began to spin. What was going on here? All the men were looking at him now and the man on the phone wanted Victoria Napier. Where had the woman gone?

Abby rubbed her wrists; one was bleeding after being rubbed raw. Napier had released her to use the bathroom. There was one in the back of the storage unit. She showed him the raw marks and the bloody wrist.

“There’s nowhere for me to go. Besides, I’m sticking with you until I get that combination.”

He considered this and then directed her to sit back down in the chair. She complied and watched him work. She fantasized about picking something up and hitting him over the head with it. She was reasonably certain she could move fast enough. But what if she hit him too hard? Or suppose she did turn the tables on him and he refused to help? It was aggravating beyond belief.

He had survival food in the back of the unit and he was organizing batches of it and putting it in the trunk of the Camaro. He also had clothes and shoes, which he was stacking in the backseat of the car. She glimpsed a lot of cash and some fake IDs. He really had planned for this. Every so often he’d check the progress on the battery charger.

Abby yawned, not sure what time it was, but knowing it was going to be a long night. All she could do was pray for Woody and Orson. Thoughts of Luke caused shame to bubble up in her gut. She was mortified that the last conversation they’d had was an argument. And he’d been right. She’d gotten tunnel vision because of Alyssa. She couldn’t let go because she didn’t want to let go.

What was it Axelson had said about the lack of progress in the early days of Ciara’s murder investigation? The perfect storm of bad luck and bad decisions. That was Abby’s life at the moment. But as she sat and prayed, she felt stronger, more secure. God was in control, and an escape opportunity would present itself. She just had to be ready when it did.