24

Sabrina couldn’t meet Adam’s eyes. She crossed her arms and stared, unseeing, out the window.

“What about your mom?” Adam’s gentle question should’ve been easy to answer. But it wasn’t.

“I can’t live this way anymore. I need answers. I really thought it was possible she could’ve hired someone to kill me. Who thinks that about their own mother? It’s sick.”

Adam wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward him. She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t uncross her arms. “First, it isn’t sick. It’s what we do. We look at all the possibilities. Family members aren’t excluded. And your mother was a valid suspect.”

“You would never suspect your mother of doing that.”

“No. I wouldn’t. But my relationship with my mother is quite different from yours. And I would treat my mother as a suspect if circumstances warranted it. I wouldn’t believe it and I would be certain she would be exonerated, but I wouldn’t avoid considering it.”

“I need to talk to her,” Sabrina said. “Confront her.”

“Okay. I hear you. And I’m not saying I disagree. But are you prepared to deal with the repercussions of that conversation?”

“It’s not like our relationship could get any worse. We don’t see each other often as it is. We talk once a month. It’s not like I’m going to accuse her of trying to have me killed.”

“No.”

“Just of having a slave.” Because that was so much better?

She pulled away from Adam. “She’s going to hate me.”

“Or,” Adam said, “she may be relieved to get it out in the open. If you’re right, then she’s been living with this guilt for at least three decades. If you’re wrong, then you can learn to deal with your mother without that huge issue always between you.”

“True.”

“You know I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”

“Thanks.”

“But can I make a suggestion?”

Uh-oh. “Of course.”

“Sleep on it first.”

“Sleep?” She yawned. “What’s that?”

Adam yawned too. “I hear it’s this thing where you close your eyes and when you open them, you have energy. I’m sure I’ve experienced it in the past . . . I just can’t remember when.”

“I’ll sleep eventually.”

The adrenaline from last night’s raids and all the events that had followed them had definitely worn off. No matter how much work she had to do, sleep was going to take precedence. And soon.

“How much longer do you need to send these files over to Gabe?” Adam asked.

“They’re ready. Gabe needs to see them. I assume he’s still running point on this since we don’t know who actually killed Lisa Palmer yet?”

“He is. But they’re already putting together a joint task force between the city police, county sheriff, state bureau of investigation, and possibly some immigration control officers to work the rest of it. The captain’s trying to figure out who’s interested and capable, and who actually has time to devote to it.”

“I wouldn’t want to be him right now,” Sabrina said.

“Me neither.”

They both yawned again.

“Okay, tell me what you think of this plan. I’ll drive you first to Leigh’s to pick up your stuff and then take you home. I’ll even stop by the grocery store if you want so you can restock your fridge. And then you’ll sleep and we’ll discuss everything tomorrow.”

“I like that plan. When are you going to get some sleep?”

He smiled. “Soon. I talked the captain into stationing one deputy in your driveway for tonight. So once he gets there, I’ll go back to the office and see how everyone’s doing and then I’ll crash. The captain’s already said he wants everyone who was up all night to go home by six tonight. Says the last thing he needs right now is one of his deputies falling asleep behind the wheel and causing a wreck.”

“That doesn’t sound very nice,” Sabrina said.

Adam laughed. “He’s not being mean. That’s his way of saying he wants us all to get some rest without sounding like he’s being a mother hen.”

“Oh.” She could see that. “Because y’all are so tough.”

Adam laughed harder. “Exactly. Now let’s get out of here.”

He scanned the supplies in front of him.

Two guns.

Two canisters of tear gas.

Rope.

Gloves.

Bleach.

Plastic bags.

He couldn’t believe it had come to this.

What was the point of keeping everyone’s secrets—their dirtiest, darkest, most depraved secrets—if you wound up losing everything?

He wasn’t asking for more than he deserved. He wanted enough money to live out his life in peace. Without constantly looking over his shoulder.

He’d seen his opportunity three years earlier when Martin Fleming had looked him up. He hadn’t heard from or seen the man in seventeen years and there he was, sitting across from him in a deli telling him his life was ending. Soon. And not only that, but also that the early onset dementia would mean he would forget who he was and who the people around him were before his soul departed from his body.

Martin said he was the only person he could trust because he’d kept his secret for almost thirty years.

Well, Martin had been right about that last part anyway. He had kept the secret. And it was a whopper.

And with Martin’s mind slipping away, he’d set the plan into motion that would give him both his wealth and his freedom.

Because while he knew a lot of secrets, they’d always been a double-edged sword. If he ever told—if the truth ever got out—he would be on the run for the rest of his life.

But Martin was dead. And with Juan dead, too, the secret would die with Martin’s daughter.

And he would finally be free.

There was one huge downside to living in a tiny house.

She couldn’t pace.

Not that she spent a lot of time pacing, but tonight she wanted to. She’d picked up her phone—and returned it to the coffee table—at least eight times in the past fifteen minutes.

This was ridiculous. It was only seven thirty, but she was exhausted, and she wasn’t going to call her mom until after she slept, so she might as well get started sleeping. She turned off the lights and climbed the ladder to her loft bedroom.

Ah. Bliss.

Her own bed. Her own space. She’d missed it.

But something had changed.

The quiet was a little too quiet.

The serenity was a little too serene.

If she didn’t know better, she might think she was lonely.

No. Not Sabrina Fleming. She didn’t do lonely. She did fine on her own.

Her phone buzzed and she snatched it from the shelf over her bed.

The text was from Leigh.

My house is too quiet tonight. Miss you. You’re probably already asleep and I hope you are. But call me in the morning, okay?

Before she could reply, the phone buzzed again. This text was from Anissa.

Hey. Just checking on you. Call me if you need anything.

This was what it was like to have friends. Real ones.

She shot quick replies back to both of them and returned the phone to the shelf. As she snuggled back under her covers, her heart was full.

Thank you, Father. Thank you for giving me more than I even knew to ask for. Please help me to trust that you know what I need before I ask, that you know how best to handle the situation with my mother. Give me the wisdom I need.

She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep, but the ringing of her phone woke her. She answered it without opening her eyes.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Sabrina. Did I catch you at a bad time? You sound terrible.”

She was awake now.

“Sorry, Mom. I was working all night last night, so I crashed early.”

“Oh, I woke you. Then my apologies.”

She didn’t sound sorry. She sounded annoyed.

“It’s okay. What do you need?” Her mother never called unless she needed something, and this call wouldn’t be any different.

“I’m going to be in the area tomorrow. Since I’ll be in Colorado over the holidays, I thought I might stop by and say hello.”

“Sure. What time? Where would you like to meet?”

“I thought I’d come to your place. See this tiny house you’re living in. Check on your father’s place.”

“Mom, there’s nothing to see here.”

“Be that as it may, it will ease my mind.”

Part of Sabrina wanted to tell her to stay away, but hadn’t she just asked God to give her wisdom? And now her mother would be coming to her house. Maybe she would be able to ask about Rosita without destroying their relationship.

“Okay. What time?”

“I’ll be in Raleigh for a breakfast meeting with one of our smaller medical groups.” Only her mother would schedule a meeting during the breakfast hour on a Sunday in December. Those poor people who worked for her must hate her. “So let’s say eleven? Will you be home from church?”

“I wasn’t planning to go tomorrow, so that will be fine.”

“Oh? Well, then that’s excellent. See you then. Goodbye.”

Sabrina checked the time. Nine thirty. So not an unreasonable time for her mother to call. Except for the fact that she wanted them to meet in a little over twelve hours. Maybe she’d been hoping Sabrina wouldn’t be available. She’d seemed a bit shocked that Sabrina wasn’t planning to go to church.

Sabrina hadn’t felt the need to explain that she’d intended to sleep until nature awakened her and not a minute before. Mainly because she was exhausted but also because a tiny part of her wondered if she was still a target, and the thought of drawing danger to a place of worship terrified her to her core.

She would go next week, when Adam could come with her.

She typed a few words of a text to Adam but stopped. He should be asleep by now and there was no need to wake him. Not over this.

She would email him. He’d see the message tomorrow.