Книга - Colby Brass

Colby Brass
Debra Webb








Colby Brass


Debra Webb






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Table of Contents


Cover (#u4659ee8a-fd45-55e2-80fe-34ff7f525304)

Title Page (#uafb5aaba-eb08-522e-8f5a-c59bd1ef4001)

About the Author (#u332ae20c-e72c-505d-948c-27c37610a447)

Dedication (#udd073453-dd6a-5d35-a715-f374d99c83b0)

Chapter One (#uad329b78-516f-5681-bfd5-14dc4b919898)

Chapter Two (#u3421c55e-b18e-5a3e-89c5-f34472376984)

Chapter Three (#ue666bf57-de7d-5d1e-83ce-e6e2922cc9a8)

Chapter Four (#u34b7227b-a6e5-5fec-afbe-343de722cba4)

Chapter Five (#u2f6aeafb-9679-5108-9221-b1936d0c9296)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




About the Author


DEBRA WEBB wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain and within the confining political Walls of Berlin, that she realised her true calling. A five-year stint with Nasa on the Space Shuttle Program reinforced her love of the endless possibilities within her grasp as a storyteller. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Debra has been writing romantic suspense and action-packed romantic thrillers since. Visit her at www.Debrawebb.com or write to her at PO Box 4889, Huntsville, AL 35815, USA.


This book is dedicated to a man I did not have the privilege of knowing personally. But his reputation is one no one hereabouts is likely to forget. Jerry Crabtree, a man who did the thing he loved, police work, until the day he died. Thank you, Jerry, for a lifetime of commitment to serving and protecting your fellow man.




Chapter One


Chicago, Tuesday, December 22, 2009, 2:05 p.m.

Only three days until Christmas.

Victoria Colby-Camp smiled as she watched the rush of last-minute shoppers along the sidewalks of Chicago’s Miracle Mile.

Lunch with a longtime friend just two blocks from the office provided a nice stroll in the gently falling snow. Though many only endured Chicago’s harsh winters, Victoria loved this time of year. It was filled with countless reasons to be joyous and to celebrate. Just six years ago she had celebrated her first Christmas with her son after more than twenty years of not knowing whether he was dead or alive.

Now she not only had her son, Jim, back, she also had gained a wonderful daughter, his wife Tasha, and two amazing grandchildren. A darling granddaughter, Jamie, and five-month-old Luke, Lucas James Colby. James would be so proud. The memory of her beloved late first husband brought a smile to Victoria’s lips. He would very much approve of how far she and Jim had come despite the many obstacles life had thrown in their paths.

Victoria paused a moment to consider the building that had become home to the Colby Agency after the original building had been destroyed. Despite the state-of-the-art security, evil still found a way to touch those inside. Certainty chased away the niggling worry. No matter how hard their enemies fought to bring down the Colby Agency, somehow Victoria and her staff overcame the seemingly insurmountable to not only survive but also to thrive.

For this she was immensely thankful.

The chilly wind blew a wisp of hair against her cheek. Victoria swept it away, tucking the strands back into the French twist she’d so meticulously arranged that morning. Not so easy to do with gloved fingers. Sentimentality flowed inside her as she considered the numerous miracles she had observed firsthand over the past two-plus decades. The good somehow always outweighed the bad. She owed much to those who continued to persevere alongside her at the agency and fight the good fight.

Some had moved on to begin new lives elsewhere, but most remained invaluable assets, both as friends and as business contacts. The Colby staff was the best of the best. Victoria appreciated each one for his or her unique qualities. This year she and Jim had decided upon distinctly generous bonuses for every member of the staff.

Another smile spread across her lips. It was the least she could do given the enormous sacrifices each had made through their continued dedication and loyalty during the ups and downs and changes with the agency.

A rush of pedestrians drew Victoria from her tender, affectionate musings.

“Did you see that?” a woman asked another as the two, headed in Victoria’s direction, glanced back then hurried forward.

Victoria didn’t hear the rest of the conversation since the women moved by so quickly. A group of pedestrians farther up the sidewalk drew her attention there.

A woman stood alone.

Victoria was first taken aback by her lack of suitable attire considering the freezing weather conditions. No coat … no hat or gloves. Dear God, no shoes. The woman stood, staring across the street, as if she expected someone or something to appear in her line of vision.

Then she turned, facing Victoria’s direction, and trudged forward, her bare feet faltering clumsily through the ankle-deep snow.

Victoria’s lips parted with a sharply indrawn breath.

The front of the woman’s yellow blouse was stained a deep crimson. Droplets of that same startling color dripped from the fingertips of her right hand and onto the newly fallen snow, leaving a horrifying atlas of her jagged path.

Victoria’s gloved hand slid into her coat pocket, wrapped around her cell phone even as a sort of shock held her unable to look away … unable to properly react. Who was this woman? What had happened to her?

She stumbled closer. “Can you help me?” Her lips were cracked from exposure and her skin was deathly pale from the icy cold.

Instinct kicking aside the shock, Victoria bolted forward just in time for the woman to collapse into her arms.

“Help me,” she begged, her eyes wide with fear and glassy with whatever physical trauma she had suffered. Her left cheek was swollen. Blood had trickled from her nose and coagulated on her skin.

Victoria hit speed dial for the office as she lowered the woman onto the cold blanket of snow. “Mildred,” she said before her personal assistant could launch into her practiced greeting, “I need paramedics. Now! I’m on the street in front of the office. I have a female, mid-to-late twenties, who is injured and bleeding.”

Victoria surveyed the woman. The bleeding appeared to start at her left shoulder. “Make the call and get me some help out here!”

Tossing the cell phone aside, Victoria opened the bloody yellow blouse to assess the injury. A penetrating wound on the left shoulder. Deep. Still oozing precious blood.

“Please,” the woman urged, her voice scarcely a gasp. “Help me.”

“I’ve called for help,” Victoria assured her as she shrugged off her coat and ripped the scarf from around her neck. With one hand she pressed the scarf over the wound to staunch the bleeding while spreading the coat over the woman’s body with the other.

A sharply indrawn breath jerked Victoria’s attention upward. A man, cell phone in hand, stared at the startling sight.

“Take off your coat,” Victoria ordered him, “wrap it around her feet and legs.”

Still frozen, the man blinked.

“Do it!” Victoria demanded.

His movements stilted, the man shouldered out of his heavy winter coat and moved to do as he had been instructed. “What … what happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Victoria told him. “Help is on the way.” To the woman whose lips were still moving with inaudible words, Victoria said, “Can you tell me your name?”

A weak gaze locked with Victoria’s. “Help me,” she murmured.

“You have my word,” Victoria promised. “But I need your name.” Sirens wailed in the distance, providing some amount of relief. Help was on the way. Thank God.

“My baby …” The rest of the woman’s words were thready, indistinct whispers. “He took my Lily.”

Victoria leaned closer. “Please, tell me your name.” She wanted desperately to pursue the subject of the baby, Lily, but she needed the woman’s name first.

“Wanda …” She moistened her cracked lips. “Larkin.”

“What happened?” Victoria’s son crouched on the other side of Wanda.

As if a shot of adrenaline had renewed her, Wanda Larkin frantically grabbed at Jim’s shirt with her right hand. “He took my little girl,” she cried. “You have to help me!”

Victoria’s gaze collided with Jim’s for an instant before returning to the woman’s.

“Who took your baby?” Jim asked, his voice gentle.

“The paramedics as well as Chicago’s finest are here.”

Victoria glanced up at Trinity Barrett, a member of her staff. Like Jim, he hadn’t taken the time to grab his coat before rushing out into the harsh weather. Victoria nodded, thankful the slippery streets hadn’t slowed down the arrival of emergency services.

“Who took your baby?” Jim repeated a bit more firmly.

“My ex-husband,” Wanda murmured. “He took my baby.” Tears leaked from her glazed eyes. “I tried to stop him. Outside the toy … store.” She gestured feebly in the direction from which she’d come.

As Trinity filled in the paramedics, Jim prompted more answers from the victim. Where did she live? What was the name of the toy store where the attack and abduction had taken place?

Victoria cleared her mind and took mental note of the information Wanda managed to provide before her ability to listen and respond faded further. Victoria grabbed her phone from the snow and put through another call to Mildred with instructions to send Von Cassidy to the major toy store only a few blocks away. It was the only one in the direction Wanda had indicated. Every moment that passed lessened the likelihood of finding witnesses to the incident. There was no time to wait for the police to react.

Victoria and Jim moved aside as the paramedics took over care of the victim. While the police attempted to question Wanda, Jim gave Trinity a nod and they both slipped away. Victoria covered for them when the questioning turned to her and the man who’d reluctantly helped by giving up his coat.

By the time the paramedics had taken Wanda away in the waiting ambulance and the police had gone with a warning that there would likely be additional questions, Victoria was freezing. “Thank you,” she said to the man whose name she couldn’t immediately call to mind.

“I’m just sorry you had to ask for my help.” He shook his head and offered a bewildered shrug. “You see these things on the news … in the movies …” He shook his head again. “But you never expect to be the one …”

“You reacted commendably,” Victoria assured him before he trudged away. She surveyed the sidewalks where those who’d stood by watching now went on about the business of hurrying to their destinations.

When, she wondered, had helping one’s fellow-man become more a spectator’s sport than a call to action?

She peered at the bloody snow where the victim had lain, then up at the sky. Victoria closed her eyes and let the falling snow sting her cold cheeks. Who was this woman? This Wanda Larkin?

Was the incident related to a custody battle?

Or was this something far more sinister?

Either way … a child was missing.

Whatever the motive behind the act—Victoria shifted her gaze to the building where her staff waited—the Colby Agency would find the missing child.

And the man responsible for this unthinkable tragedy.




Chapter Two


Humboldt Park, 3:30 p.m. (2 hours missing)

Trinity Barrett surveyed the block surrounding the apartment building where Wanda Larkin lived. Jim Colby reached for the unsecured door leading into the building. Trinity followed his boss inside the dingy stairwell. The wails of an infant somewhere above the first floor were underscored by at least one blaring television. A woman shouting at someone who had evidently made her unhappy drowned out the rest of the cacophony.

Jim studied the row of mailboxes on the wall to the left of the entry door. “Third floor, 306.”

Wanda Larkin had given them the street address, but the apartment number she’d murmured had been inaudible.

Three flights of stairs later, Trinity approached Larkin’s apartment first. A metal number six identified the unit.

Jim held up a hand for Trinity to wait as he moved to the right side of the door and knocked loudly.

No response from the interior. No distinguishable sound.

Prompted by Jim’s second round of knocking, somewhere on the fourth floor a dog barked.

Jim nodded his approval and Trinity reached for the doorknob.

Technically they were entering unlawfully, but the woman had given her address when Jim asked—which could be loosely construed as authorization to enter the premises. The cops hadn’t arrived just yet, which meant Trinity and Jim would need to proceed with caution. Tampering with evidence could impede the investigation as well as get them in serious hot water with the authorities.

The latch released with nothing more than a single turn of the knob. Trinity pushed the door inward and drew back, staying to the left and clear of the opening.

Seconds ticked by with no reaction.

Jim moved into the doorway, then entered the apparently deserted apartment.

Trinity followed.

The place was neat and clean despite the worn-out furnishings.

No sign of a struggle.

The scent of recently baked cookies permeated the air. A small Christmas tree sat on the table in one corner, the decorations mostly homemade.

Jim headed for the small hall that likely led to the bedrooms and bath. Trinity moved around the living room. A couple of framed photos sat on a table in front of the window overlooking the unkempt street. No curtains, just the open slats of yellowed blinds.

Trinity picked up a photo of the woman, Wanda Larkin, and a small girl, six or seven years old, maybe. Cute kid with blond hair and brown eyes like her mother. His chest tightened at the idea that the child may have been harmed … or worse. He picked up another framed photo, this one probably taken at school. Her name, Lily, was stamped in gold lettering across the bottom of the photo. Using his cell phone, he snapped a close-up of the photo.

“Two bedrooms, one bath,” Jim announced as he strode back into the room. “All are clean. If there’s been any trouble here, there’s no indication.”

Trinity passed the framed photo of Lily to his boss. “I’ll check the kitchen.”

The kitchen was actually a part of the living room, the two spaces divided only by a breakfast bar. A plate of cookies decorated for Christmas sat on the counter. The little girl’s artwork and more photos were displayed on the fridge.

Lily. Trinity touched the name scrawled on a pink piece of construction paper, then traced the cut-and-pasted Christmas tree the child had drawn. An innocent child … that was now in danger.

He shook off the troubling thoughts and focused on the details. Fridge and cabinets were painfully bare of provisions. Clearly the mother struggled financially, but the cleanliness of the apartment as well as the Christmas decorations and cookies indicated how hard she tried. A schedule printed on computer paper was taped to the side of the fridge. Trinity studied the document.

“She works at Mercy General,” Trinity said aloud. The schedule gave no indication of the position she held, only the hours scheduled to work each day.

Jim joined him in the kitchen. “She scheduled to work today? “

Trinity shook his head. “Tomorrow afternoon.” The numerous night shifts made him wonder who kept the girl, Lily, while her mother worked.

“I’m calling the police!”

Trinity and Jim turned simultaneously. An elderly woman waved a cordless phone receiver in her right hand while sporting what appeared to be a can of pepper spray in the left.

Jim’s hands went up surrender style. “No need to call the police, ma’am,” he assured her. “We’re from the Colby Agency. We’re here to help Ms. Larkin.”

Trinity lifted his hands in the same fashion. “Are you a neighbor of Ms. Larkin’s?”

The woman pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze. “If you’re here to help her, why isn’t she here, too?” she demanded, promptly ignoring Trinity’s question. “Since she’s not, that means you’re here illegally.”

Unfortunately, Trinity considered, the lady had a valid point.

“I’m Jim Colby,” Jim explained, “and this is my colleague Trinity Barrett.” Jim gestured to his coat. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll gladly show you my ID.”

The woman cocked her head. “Open that coat up so I can see if there’s a gun under there.”

Smart lady, Trinity decided.

Jim obliged, gingerly tugging open his coat using his thumbs and forefingers.

The woman nodded, a frizzy gray curl slipped loose from her haphazard ponytail. “You, too,” she instructed Trinity.

Trinity did the same. Jacy Kelley, the agency’s new receptionist, had appeared in the parking garage with Trinity and Jim’s coats before they headed here.

“Come on over here where I can see.” The neighbor wasn’t stepping away from the open doorway.

Moving cautiously, Trinity and his boss again complied with her demand.

When they’d reached the center of the living room, she said, “That’s close enough right there.”

Both displayed their credentials.

After leaning forward to check out the IDs they offered, she eyed first Jim then Trinity with marginally less suspicion. “Where’s Wanda and Lily? “ Fury tightened her lips. “Has something happened?”

Jim explained the circumstances that brought them to Larkin’s apartment, leaving out the part about the missing child. They needed this woman cooperative, not hysterical. Her face paled and her eyes widened at the few details Jim provided.

“I knew that no-good bum would do something like this eventually.” She shoved the canister of pepper spray into the pocket of her baggy jeans, shifted the phone to her left hand and extended her right toward Jim. “I’m Teresa Boles. I live cross the hall. I take care of Lily after school.” As Jim shook her hand, she added, “He should’ve gone to jail for good the last time he knocked Wanda around.”

“Ms. Boles,” Trinity began as he, too, accepted a brisk handshake from the lady. Her grip was a heck of a lot stronger than he’d expected. “We’ll need the ex-husband’s name, phone number and address. Can you help us with that?”

“Kobi Larkin.” Teresa wagged her head. “I haven’t seen him in months. Not since he broke Wanda’s jaw.” She muttered a curse under her breath. “I helped her take out a restraining order and he hasn’t been back. I hoped we’d seen the last of him.” She suddenly frowned. “Wait.” She looked from Jim to Trinity and back. “You said Wanda was at the hospital. Where’s Lily?”

Trinity and Jim exchanged a look. “Ms. Boles,” Jim said gently, “we don’t know where Lily is. Bear in mind that Wanda was seriously injured and we can’t be certain her story was accurate.”

“Where’s the baby?” Boles demanded, anger overtaking the fear in her voice. “Did that lowdown fool do something to Lily?”

“Ms. Larkin,” Trinity took up where Jim had left off, “stated that her ex-husband had taken Lily. Do you have any idea where he might have taken her? Where he lives or works?”

“Why aren’t the police doing something?” she shrieked. “There’s no telling what he’ll do! He’s a dopehead! A no-good son of a bitch!”

“Ms. Boles,” Trinity said coolly, hoping his rational tone would calm her, “the police are at the hospital with Wanda. They’ll probably be here soon. We’re trying to get a head start on finding the little girl. We promised Wanda we would find her. Anything you can do to help us will help Lily.”

“We need as much information about him as you can provide,” Jim reiterated.

She trembled, took a deep, shaky breath and squared her shoulders. “Kobi lives on the street, as far as I know. Don’t have a job or a phone. But,” she said when Jim would have interrupted, “the one thing I know for sure is that he hangs around with some other troublemakers over in Rogers Park.” She shook her head. “I don’t know any names of his friends,” she added before Trinity could ask. “I heard Wanda say something about his friends in Rogers Park when she was yelling at him the last time he had the nerve to show up here. Before he broke her jaw. A couple of months ago.”

“We’ll check it out.” Jim pulled a business card from his jacket pocket. “Ms. Boles, please call us if you think of anything else or hear anything related to Mr. Larkin or Lily.”

Boles accepted the card, stared at it a long moment.

“What about the police?” She looked to Jim first, then to Trinity. “Won’t they come here, too? Aren’t you working with them? Do they understand that he’s capable of anything? Just because he’s Lily’s father doesn’t mean he’ll take care of her.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Trinity answered, “the police will likely be here soon and have questions for you, as well. As we explained, we’re trying to get a head start with locating the father so we can help Lily.”

“Every second we waste,” Jim said, his tone dull, emotionless, “may be the one that could have made the difference in how this turns out. You have my word that we’ll do everything possible.” He moved around the bewildered woman and headed for the door. “Call if you think of anything at all.”

“Thank you, Ms. Boles.” Trinity tried to reassure her with his eyes. “We’ll find Lily.” He started for the door.

“If it’s not too late already,” Ms. Boles called after him. “Kobi’s crazy. He could do anything.”

Trinity didn’t slow his momentum.

Jim was right.

Every second counted.




Chapter Three


Toy World, 3:40 p.m.

The police arrived at the toy store a full three minutes after Von, forcing her to adopt a different strategy for questioning employees.

In the past fifteen minutes they had taken four employees, one at a time, into the manager’s office for questioning. Von couldn’t eavesdrop so she had initiated her own approach.

First she’d visually examined the sidewalk and street in front of the toy store. No blood. Didn’t make sense. The woman had been bleeding. Quite possibly her coat, assuming she had been wearing one at the time, had soaked up the initial blood lost. But where was her coat?

According to Victoria, the incident had taken place on the sidewalk in front of the store. Since the checkout counter and the restrooms were at the back of the store, it made sense to Von that any employee who’d witnessed the confrontation would have been working the aisles at the front of the store.

Von wandered the action figure aisle, the end closest to the two-story glass store front, and watched for the red apron the employees wore. The lastminute shoppers were out in full force. The thick crowd helped her to blend in. She glanced at the street beyond the heavily decorated wall of glass. Von doubted the two police cruisers parked out front were discouraging business since Christmas was just three days away. Some parents would walk over hot coals or dodge flying bullets to fulfill their kids’ Christmas wishes.

Which was dumb in Von’s opinion. Christmas was a waste of energy and resources.

A young guy, younger than her twenty-eight, rolled a float stacked high with boxes onto the aisle where Von waited. Depending on how long he’d been stocking these shelves he may have witnessed the confrontation between Larkin and her ex.

Half a dozen steps and she stood right behind the store clerk. “Excuse me.”

He didn’t turn around or acknowledge her presence.

She tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped.

Then she saw the reason he hadn’t heard her. His shoulder-length hair hid the wire extending from his ear to his MP3 player.

He snatched the earbud free and jammed it into his apron pocket. “Can I help you?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, sorry.” He forced a smile. “How may I help you, ma’am?”

The distinct flicker of worry in his eyes warned that he’d committed this transgression before and wanted no part of that kind of trouble again.

“Have you been stocking on this aisle all afternoon?” Might as well get straight to the point.

He glanced past her, then searched her face a moment as if attempting to determine if she was a spy for management. “Since about one.”

She hitched a thumb toward the front window. “My best friend had a big fight right outside with her ex. Did you see it happen?”

He stiffened. “I already talked to the police. I told ‘em everything I know.”

Von produced a trembling smile. “I can’t get the police to tell me anything and I’m really worried. She’s at the hospital and her ex took her little girl.” Von shrugged. “I really want to find that bastard before he does something even more stupid.”

The clerk licked his lips, checked both directions of the aisle. “I wish I could help you.” He shrugged. “I really do. But I really did tell the cops all I know.” He gestured to the floor to ceiling, wall to wall window. “I could see them arguing but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. The dude grabbed the kid’s hand and walked off. The woman ran after him. Looked like she was yelling but I couldn’t hear what she was saying.”

“Which way did they go?”

He pointed left and shrugged again. “That’s all I know.”

Von gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

The police would continue questioning employees until they were certain no one had seen or heard anything. Von had other plans.

If the violent part of the confrontation hadn’t happened in front of the store, then it had to have occurred after the ex walked away with the kid in tow. Von moved out the front entrance and turned left.

Concentrating on the snowy sidewalk, she passed a restaurant, a bookstore and a pharmacy. When she reached the end of the block she turned around and retraced her steps.

No blood. Just the slush of snow beaten down by foot traffic.

How far had Larkin and her ex gone before the physical confrontation occurred? The Colby Agency was five blocks away. A street over and four blocks down. The woman had been bleeding profusely. Wherever she was attacked, presumably with a knife, there would be blood close by. If not on the sidewalk near the toy store … if not in front of witnesses who surely would have called the police—It had to be in a more secluded place. Some place no one would look on a busy afternoon only a few shopping days from Christmas.

Von checked the wide alley between the pharmacy and the bookstore. Some trash, a few empty boxes and a Dumpster but no blood. Double-checking as she retraced her steps, she returned to the sidewalk and moved on to the next possibility.

Between the restaurant and the toy store was another alley, this one too narrow for the city’s garbage truck. Again there were empty boxes. A couple of garbage cans and not much else.

“Damn it.” Had Wanda Larkin gotten disoriented and confused the location of the confrontation? Maybe she’d followed the jerk a considerable distance from the toy store.

Von ventured deeper into the alley. As she neared the end where the alley gave way to another sidewalk and street, her gaze snagged on a dark spot. Not mud or other grime. This was distinctly rusty in color. The snow was a slushy mess from the foot traffic but there was something …

She touched the spot, assessed the smudge on her fingertip.

Definitely blood.

Her heart rate accelerated as anticipation fired in her veins.

At the intersection of the alley and the parallel street that ran behind the toy store another stack of boxes were overturned and scattered.

More blood.

Von dragged box after box aside … a woman’s coat had been wadded into a ball and tossed to the side. Von cautiously unrolled the coat. The lining was bloodstained. Fur-lined ankle boots were hidden behind more boxes … and socks—all bloodstained.

Judging by the amount of blood on the ground, Von estimated that Wanda Larkin had been immobile and hemorrhaging heavily for several minutes. Lying on the frigid ground with no coat and no shoes.

Fury roared through Von as she pieced together the story the elements of the scene revealed.

The ex had meant for Wanda to die.

Von sat back on her haunches and surveyed the scene once more. Larkin had stabbed his ex-wife or slashed at her with the knife. Von inspected the coat, noted the hole in the garment. Not an extended tear in the fabric, a distinct hole. No slash. He’d stabbed her. He’d hit her or pushed her hard enough to knock her unconscious or stun her, at least for a few minutes. Then he’d stripped off her coat and boots, tried to camouflage her body and walked away.

Leaving her to die.

Exposure to the extreme cold would have hastened the outcome.

“Bastard.” Von pushed to her feet and double-timed it back to the toy store. She tracked down the guy she’d questioned before. “Do me a favor.” The clerk didn’t look too gung-ho, but Von went on, “Tell the police there’s blood in the alley between this store and the restaurant next door.”

The guy’s eyes rounded. “Blood?”

“Tell them!” Von ordered as she backed down the aisle toward the exit. “Tell them now.”

She didn’t wait around to get caught up in questioning. Her SUV was in the parking garage down the block and across the street. On the way, she put in a call to Victoria and explained what she’d discovered near the toy store.

“Von, I want you to rendezvous with Jim and Trinity,” Victoria instructed. “They’re en route to Rogers Park. The ex-husband reportedly lives or spends time in the area.”

“Do we have his name or a description?” Von asked, pushing aside the automatic reaction that had nothing to do with this case.

“His name is Kobi Larkin. Research is sending a DMV photo to your phones now. Also, Trinity obtained a photo of the child at the mother’s apartment. He’ll forward that to you as well.” Victoria hesitated. “And, Von, tread cautiously,” she warned. “Keep me posted. I’ll follow up with Chicago PD.”

“On my way,” Von assured the chief of the Colby Agency as she sprinted to her SUV. Her mind raced ahead of her … to Rogers Park.

To him.

Trinity Barrett.

Living in the same city with him wasn’t the end of the world. Not at all. Chicago was plenty big enough that running into each other wasn’t exactly that big of an issue. He’d worked in the high-class section of the city; she’d worked on the fringes. Hadn’t been a problem … until this year.

From the moment Jim Colby had told her the Equalizers were merging with the Colby Agency, Von had known this moment might come.

But she’d hoped.

She’d even prayed.

Well, sort of.

Now the nightmare she’d wished to avoid was becoming reality.

She would be forced to work with Trinity Barrett, her ex-husband.

After hitting the key fob and climbing into the driver’s seat of her SUV, she jammed the key into the ignition and started the engine. She took a slow, deep breath and relaxed to the degree possible.

She could do this.

It wasn’t the end of the world, Von reminded herself. Not really. Yes, it would be awkward and annoying and damned frustrating working with him. But there was every reason to anticipate that she would certainly survive the challenge.

He, however, might not.




Chapter Four


Rogers Park, 4:30 p.m. (3 hours missing)

Trinity waited at the corner of the block, the rendezvous point.

She was almost here.

Evonne Cassidy. Von. His ex-wife.

Trinity hiked his shoulders in an effort to relieve some of the stress. He should have resigned ten months ago when Victoria announced that the Equalizers were merging with the Colby Agency. But Trinity loved his work at the Colby Agency. He’d hoped that Von would do the right thing and decide not to come onboard at the agency.

But she’d done exactly the opposite.

Five years ago they had made the decision to end their volatile relationship. Problem was, neither of them had been willing to leave Chicago. Determined to make a fresh start Trinity had, in time, signed on with the Colby Agency. A couple years later he’d heard through mutual friends that Von had taken a position at another PI type firm, but he hadn’t known until a few days later that it was Victoria Colby’s son’s firm.

That fact hadn’t been a problem until this year.

Until then, Trinity and Von hadn’t spoken since the divorce finalized, not for any reason. Shortly after the announced merger earlier this year, they’d had a face-to-face meeting in neutral territory. A decision to keep their history private had been reached. There had been no need to drag their tumultuous shared past into the present. They would be cordial to each other at work and if they were lucky, a mutual assignment wouldn’t come up.

So much for luck.

He watched her SUV roll to a stop at the curb. This was it. No turning back.

They were professionals. They were both dedicated to their work. There was no time to deal with personal issues under the circumstances.

A child was in danger.

Von slid from behind the wheel, shoved the door shut with her hip and hit the key fob to initiate the vehicle’s security system. Her trendy slacks and matching coat were signature Von. She liked being comfortable, but she never sacrificed fashion to make it happen. Somehow she always looked like she’d just stepped off a runway in the most casual of clothes.

Trinity swallowed hard as she marched toward him. He’d seen her every single weekday this year at the office. No matter, each time his internal reaction was the same—uncertainty, yearning … frustration.

Fool he was, even five years hadn’t changed the way just watching her move made him feel. One thing was an absolute certainty, he would take that particular secret with him to his grave.

Giving her the satisfaction of knowing that she had the upper hand on his heart was one humiliation he had no desire to experience.

“Just received word from Simon that there are two possible addresses where Larkin has been known to hang out,” she announced as she strode toward Trinity’s position on the sidewalk.

Simon Ruhl was one of Victoria and Jim’s seconds in command. Possessing deep connections within the FBI, Simon could generally reach out to his contacts for swift and relevant information.

“Excellent,” Trinity acknowledged the news. It was a starting point. Rogers Park had more than its share of less than savory characters and locations. Wasting time sifting through them all was less than optimum under the circumstances.

Glancing past Trinity, then in the other direction, Von asked, “Where’s Jim?”

Jim Colby was the former head of the Equalizers. It had taken time, but the crew who’d come onboard from the Equalizers and the staff at the Colby Agency had learned to consider both Jim and Victoria “the boss.” Trinity doubted Von’s question about Jim had anything to do with her considering him her actual boss. Most likely she had hoped a third party would be around to provide a buffer between the two of them. Trinity had hoped for the same. Just another example of how luck had deserted him completely today.

“He’s on the phone with Chicago PD.” Trinity pulled the collar of his coat up around his neck. “They’re not too happy that we got the jump on their investigation. Larkin’s neighbor mentioned we’d been in the apartment. Jim’s doing damage control.”

Von made a disapproving face. “That’s ridiculous. Who cares who got the jump? Finding the kid is the goal here.”

Her lack of patience with the rules was a leftover of Equalizer methodology. That tactic had slowly but surely been overcome in recent months. Von, like the others, had learned the Colby way of conducting an investigation. Granted, this situation called for swift, decisive action, still some amount of interfacing was necessary when boundaries were breached.

Enemies were easy to make. Allies were far more difficult to attain and even harder to keep. The Colby Agency prided itself on cultivating and maintaining strong allies.

“Where to first?” she prompted.

Trinity kicked aside the distractions and gestured to the apartment building to their right. “Kobi Larkin has a sister who lives on the second floor. The sister, according to neighbors, has refused to speak to him since he and Wanda divorced. We’re hoping she can point us in the right direction.”

“Larkin may be scum,” Von commented as they crossed the street, “but he’s still the woman’s brother.” She shook her head as she surveyed both ends of the block once more. “In my experience a perp’s family is rarely any real help so I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Trinity couldn’t cite any recent examples to dispute her assertion. But they had to try every avenue, no matter how remote.

Like the building where Wanda Larkin lived, this one was rundown and dingy. Despite the cold, four teenage males loitered on the steps leading to the front entrance. Von ignored their lewd comments. Trinity stared from one to the other, long enough to make them squirm. The door closed behind Von who hadn’t hung around to watch his protective maneuver.

He caught up with her on the stairs leading to the second floor. She didn’t bother glancing back. Von Cassidy could take care of herself and she didn’t like anyone indicating otherwise—in word or deed.

Fixing his gaze someplace besides on her swaying hips was a task. Trinity was glad when they reached the second-floor corridor.

“Two-fifteen,” he said as he led the way along the cluttered hall. Apparently tomorrow was trash pickup day. Most of the doors were flanked by bags of what had the look and smell of household garbage.

At apartment 215, he stopped and rapped on the door, careful to keep to the left in the event whoever was inside opted to take a shot at whoever had dared to knock. Von waited on the other side of the door.

“Who is it?”

The voice inside was female and distinctly unfriendly.

“Maggie Clemmons,” Trinity began, “my name is Trinity Barrett. I’m an investigator looking into the disappearance of your brother, Kobi Larkin, and I have a few questions for you. I’d appreciate it if you’d open the door and cooperate.”

Von arrowed him a look of approval. Nothing he’d said had been a flat-out lie, but he’d left out some relevant info like the fact that he wasn’t a cop.

“I don’t know anything about him or his friends,” the woman claimed. “I haven’t heard from that no-account bum in months.”

“Ma’am,” Trinity pressed, “just a few moments of your time will be greatly appreciated. This is a matter of the utmost importance.”

Silence.

Von raised her eyebrows in question at Trinity.

He wasn’t giving up just yet. “Ma’am?”

“I told you I don’t know anything,” came through the door.

“He took Lily,” Trinity added since the concept that her brother was missing hadn’t done the trick.

Trinity’s gaze locked with Von’s. If the child being in danger didn’t get through to the woman … likely nothing would. Maybe Von had been right in her assessment. Blood was thicker than water.

Grinding metal echoed from turning locks, pro- viding the response they had hoped for. Relief flared in Trinity’s chest.

The door opened and a woman who’d obviously just saturated her hair with a color treatment looked from Trinity to Von and back. “He wouldn’t have taken Lily.” She shook her head adamantly as if that would make her words so. “No way.”

“May we come in, ma’am?” Trinity didn’t want to have this conversation in the corridor. Not with several doors cracked open just enough for nosy neighbors to see and hear too much already.

With a swipe to her brow with the towel dangling around her neck, the woman opened the door wider. “There’s got to be a mistake.”

Once Trinity and Von were inside, she closed the door. “Did Wanda say Kobi took Lily?”

“Ms. Clemmons, have you heard from your brother today?” Von asked.

Clemmons glared at Von, then blinked repeatedly. Apparently the pungent smell of the chemical hair treatment was getting to her. “I told you I haven’t heard from Kobi in months.” She blinked twice more. “Where’s Wanda? Why didn’t she come if what you’re saying is so? She wouldn’t just send somebody around saying such things.”

“Wanda is at Mercy General,” Trinity explained. “According to an update I received from my superior just a few minutes ago, she survived surgery and is currently in guarded condition.” Victoria had called just before Von arrived. He probably should have mentioned that to her as well. But he’d been too busy worrying about how they would manage to work together without killing each other.

The woman hugged her arms around her waist. “He swore to me that he didn’t hurt her. Is Wanda gonna be all right?”

So much for telling the truth.

“If Wanda pulls through with no permanent damage,” Von answered the question, “she’ll be very lucky. Kobi stabbed her, stripped her coat and boots off and left her to die in the snow beneath a stack of empty boxes in an alley where no one would find her.”

“Dear God,” Clemmons murmured.

“When did you speak to Kobi?” Trinity pressed, hoping to get the truth before Clemmons had time to rethink her position.

“About two o’clock, I guess.” She dabbed at her forehead with the towel again. “He said they’d had a big fight, but that everything was gonna be okay. He said he was going away for a while. To get himself together.” She turned her palms up in an earnest manner. “That’s why he called. After all this time, he just wanted to say bye before he left.” Her head wagged side to side. “He’s pushed her around from time to time but he never hurt her … like this.”

Not so according to the neighbor, but Trinity wasn’t arguing the point. He needed this woman to keep talking.

“Did he give you any idea where he might be planning to go? “ Von demanded before Trinity could, keeping the pressure on.

Maggie Clemmons shrugged. “He just said he was owed some money and he was gonna use it to do the right thing … finally.”

“Do you have reason to believe he planned to, as you say, get himself together?” Trinity hoped the man had perhaps gone into hiding with his child and meant no harm to her. Finding a scumbag like him wouldn’t be that difficult. So far, he hadn’t proven that smart. “To do the right thing?”

Clemmons heaved a weary sigh. “No. He’s said that before. He probably took the money and got more drugs. That’s what he usually does.” She divided her attention between Trinity and Von. “That’s why I know he wouldn’t have taken Lily with him. He don’t care about much but he does want her to have a better life. He’s always said she deserves better than he or Wanda could give her.”

“The fact of the matter is,” Trinity said somberly, “he did take Lily, after leaving Wanda for dead. It doesn’t sound like he has Lily’s best interests at heart just now.”

“We have to find him,” Von added. “Before he allows any harm to come to the child … before the police find him. If you care about your brother you need to help us. You know what they do to people who hurt children.”

Silence screamed in the room for two beats. Trinity hoped Von’s strategy worked. A plea from woman to woman—one that included hope for the brother.

“Charlie Jones,” Clemmons said with a confirming nod. “I don’t know where he is. But Charlie knows Kobi better than anyone. He’ll know how to find him.”

“How do we find Charlie?” Trinity asked. “We have to hurry. There’s no time for tracking him down. Not if you can give us that information.”

Clemmons hurried over to the end table next to her sofa. She scribbled something on a pad of paper, then ripped the page free and brought it to Trinity. “This is his address. I don’t know his phone number. But you’ll find him here. If anyone knows where Kobi is, it’s Charlie.”

While Von thanked Ms. Clemmons, Trinity made his way into the corridor and put through a call to Simon Ruhl. By the time they reached the stairwell, Trinity had relayed the name and address to Simon for intelligence gathering. Any info available from any and all sources could prove useful in their approach.

Trinity dropped his cell phone into his jacket pocket. “Simon will call us if he finds anything.” Since the address was only fifteen or so minutes away the preliminary info might be minimal, but they couldn’t wait around for additional details.

Von put her hand out to push through the door of the building’s front exit. “If we’re—”

She abruptly whirled around. Shoved Trinity against the wall. And kissed him.

His fingers tightened in her coat with the intention of pushing her away … but they relaxed instantly as the reality that Von was kissing him sank into his brain. His eyes closed as the feel of her hot mouth moving over his trumped all other senses.

Vaguely he was aware that the door opened and people entered the building. He heard the shuffling of boots, the hushed exchange of male voices. Trinity wanted to open his eyes and assess the new arrivals but her tongue slid along his and all other thought vanished.

Her arms went around his neck and he promptly forgot the past five years … the hurt … the arguments … the loneliness he’d felt so many, many nights along with anyone or anything else he should have been thinking about just now.

“Get a room,” a male voice grunted.

Male laughter faded along with the heavy footfalls tromping up the stairs.

Von suddenly drew away. “Let’s go.”

Trinity blinked. Grappled with the concept of what had just happened.

Von pushed out the door.

He swiped his still burning mouth with the back of his hand. “What the hell?” With a bewildered glance up the stairs, he shuffled out the door to catch up with her.

“You mind explaining what that was about?” he demanded when he caught up with her hurried stride.

She jerked her head toward the street and the dark sedan illegally parked in a red zone. “Cops.”

Trinity stopped. He stared at the sedan then back at the apartment building.

“Come on,” Von called back. “We’re wasting time.”

Since Trinity had arrived in the neighborhood with Jim Colby, he didn’t have much choice but to go wherever he went from here with Von.

He climbed into the passenger seat of her SUV.

His lips still tingled from the unexpected kiss.

It hadn’t meant anything, he reminded that truly stupid part of himself that wanted to be psyched about the fact that she had kissed him for any reason.

Von would do whatever it took to get the job done.

Even kissing a guy she disliked … her ex-husband.

Trinity’s cell phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket to check the screen. A text from Simon.

Proceed with extreme caution.

Target is dangerous.

More details to come.

Trinity confirmed that he had received the information. He slid his phone back into his jacket pocket and checked the weapon at his waist.

“Got your weapon?” he asked the driver.

Von sent him a sidelong glance. “Have you ever known me to be without it?”

An avalanche of memories twisted his gut.

At that moment Trinity wasn’t so sure Charlie Jones was going to be the most dangerous aspect of this investigation.

He swallowed back the doubt.

Whatever he had to face … the top priority was finding that little girl and bringing her safely back to her mother.




Chapter Five


5:40 p.m. (four hours missing)

Von studied the photo of Charlie Jones sent via a multimedia message to her phone by Simon. Forty years of age, according to the stats accompanying the photo, long, stringy brown hair, cocaine-skinny with an extra long rap sheet. A real dirtbag.

Even worse, this was a friend of Lily Larkin’s father—the man who had disappeared with her after stabbing and leaving her mother for dead.

Not good.

A snowman, leaning precariously to one side, adorned one of the postage-stamp-sized yards of rundown duplexes.

Only one streetlight worked and that was on the end opposite of where Von had opted to park, allowing for the possibility of trouble getting damned close without warning. The up side was that the dark provided good cover for her black SUV.

Lily Larkin had been missing approximately four hours. Every additional moment that passed was one too many. Von wanted to find that little girl.

“The cops will be right behind us,” Trinity commented. “If they get to Jones first, we’ll be at an impasse.”

“Then what’re we waiting for?” Von had wanted to move as soon as they pulled to the curb. Her partner was the one who’d insisted they hold off.

Colby rules—the investigator with the most seniority at the agency was lead.

“That,” Trinity said, his attention fixed on the row of housing “is what we waited for.”

Two men exited the front door of the duplex suspected as being the hangout of Jones and his friends. The interior light disappeared as soon as the front door closed behind them but not before Von got a decent look at the man with long, stringy brown hair.

“He got a heads-up that the police are asking questions about him,” Von said, voicing the realization that barged into her brain a few seconds later than it had her reluctant partner’s.

“Can you stay on him without him noticing?” Trinity turned to her. “We can’t risk losing him.”

Von didn’t justify his question with a response. She shook her head as she started the SUV’s engine. They were married for three years, during which time she and Trinity had tracked down numerous bail jumpers as well as varied and sundry bad guys.

He knew her driving and surveillance abilities.

“Lots of things can change in five years,” he noted as if that explained everything.

Another remark she wasn’t going to bother rejoining.

She gave Jones a half a block head start before easing away from the curb. The sparse traffic made getting any closer dicey at best.

“He’s taking the upcoming left.”

Like she couldn’t see the luxury silver SUV easing toward the center line. “Looks that way.”

Von drove past the street the target had taken.

Trinity didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. She felt his tension radiating across the center console. He would have chosen a different strategy. Tough, he wasn’t driving.

She took the next left. Drove the short block and braked for the stop sign at the subsequent intersection. “And there he goes,” she noted aloud as the silver SUV drove past their position.

Trinity said nothing as she made the right turn and followed the target.

Truth was, she couldn’t read minds and the target could just as easily have gone in the opposite direction. That, too, would have been fine. She would have seen his taillights and followed. This neighborhood was pretty barren.

This street was flanked by rundown shops that had long ago closed for business. Scarcely any streetlights still worked. Jones was playing it safe, keeping a low profile in a deserted area where anyone watching was likely up to no good as well. And would be easily spotted.

Von’s choice to take a different route had been a simple diversion tactic that had a fifty percent chance of success.

Brake lights abruptly lit the night as the SUV skidded to a sideways stop in the street.

Fifty percent chance of failure.

“Back up!”

Von had already hit the brakes and jammed the gearshift into Reverse before Trinity issued the order.

Something in her peripheral vision caused her to stall. She blinked as she watched the two men climbing out of the silver SUV. “They’re running.”

She hadn’t realized she’d said the words out loud until Trinity bolted from the vehicle.

Von hissed a curse. The man was going to get himself shot jumping out in the middle of the street like this with two known scumbags already running scared.

She rammed the gearshift back into Drive and barreled around the SUV they’d left blocking the street, using the sidewalk for passage.

One of the men darted to the right into an alley.

Von braked. Her SUV slid to an abrupt stop and she jammed into Park.

Trinity overtook the man still running down the middle of the street.

Von released her seat belt and burst out of the vehicle. She headed after the man who’d charged into the alley.

She reached beneath her jacket and wrapped her fingers around the butt of her weapon.

Her target body slammed a door in an attempt to break into the building to the right. The door didn’t budge. He lunged forward once more.

Von was close enough to hear him panting for breath.

That was the thing about bad guys. They took lots of risks but didn’t bother staying in shape.

She dove forward. Grabbed his jacket. Her momentum sent him stumbling forward, face-first onto the pavement. He tried to buck her off.

Clamping her thighs around his waist, Von shoved the muzzle of her weapon into the back of his skull. “Don’t move.” She grabbed a handful of stringy brown hair when his right hand continued to fumble around beneath him. “If that’s a weapon you’re going for, don’t bother.” She nudged his scalp a little harder with the business end of her .9 mm. He stilled.

“Slowly,” she warned, “draw your hands from under you and spread them above your head.” When he’d done as she instructed, she released his hair and reached beneath him. “No wonder you didn’t pull it out sooner.” His weapon had slid deep into his pants. For now, it was basically out of his reach, as well as hers.

“Charlie Jones?” she asked. Looked like him, but it was pretty damned dark in this alley and she couldn’t be certain.

“Who’s asking?” he snarled.

She jabbed the muzzle deeper. “A friend.” No wallet in his back pockets. She doubted he carried any ID. “Are you Charlie Jones?”

“Maybe. You a cop?”

“Look.” She revised her strategy. “I’m not a cop. And I don’t really care who you are or what you’ve done, I just want some answers about an associate of yours. Then you can be on your way.”

Several seconds ticked off. “So ask. Maybe I’ll answer.”

Since she hadn’t heard any gunfire she assumed Trinity’s situation was under control.

“Kobi Larkin,” Von said. “Where is he?”

The scumbag kissing the asphalt barked a laugh. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“You know him, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. So what? I know a lot of people.”

Von twisted her fingers in the guy’s hair and pulled hard. He grunted. “Did you see him today?”

“Depends,” he snarled.

“Did you see him?”

“Yeah, I saw him.”

She loosened her grip on his oily hair. “Did he have a little girl with him?”

The bastard snorted. “Yeah. Sweet little thing.”

Von barely restrained the need to pull the trigger. “Where’s the little girl now?”

The wail of sirens split the night air.

Jones or whoever the hell he was tensed.

“If you want a head start,” she warned, “you’d better talk fast.”

“He wanted to make some money,” the lowlife said. “He had a real need, you know what I mean?”

Yeah, she knew exactly what he meant. “You gave him money? For what?” Fear and disgust exploded in her heart at the idea that any scumbag could be a parent. A person had to have a license to drive a vehicle … but anyone could be a parent—no prerequisites or licenses required.

“No. Man, I ain’t into that.” He made a disgusted sound. “But I know people … who are.”

“Who did you send him to?” Damn it all to hell. This couldn’t be right. What father would do this?

“Another associate of mine.”

“What’s his name and how do I find him?”

The sirens were closer now.

“I don’t know his name. Just his phone number. I call him and he gives a drop location.”

Von’s stomach waded into knots. “You called him on your cell?”

“Yeah.”

She reached into his pocket, pulled out the cell phone she’d felt when checking for his weapon. “Which number?” She opened up the log of recent calls, matched the one he recited from memory. A very close associate if he knew the number by heart.

Von pushed aside the personal feelings. She had to focus. The time the call was made seemed right based on the mother’s statement of events.

“What do you get out of the deal?” Von couldn’t keep the revulsion out of her voice, didn’t even try.

“Twenty percent.”

“Twenty percent of what?”

“A good-looking little girl like that? Thirty-five hundred. Sometimes more.” He sniggered. “You’d think even an idiot would know that changing your mind isn’t an option.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Von demanded.

“We’re done,” Jones growled. “Get off me before—”

Doors slammed on the street where she’d left her vehicle.

“Get off me!” He started to buck again.

She burrowed the muzzle deep into his flesh and leaned forward to whisper in his nasty ear. “Does he keep the kids or does he auction them?”

“He sells ‘em,” he muttered. “You said you’d give me a head start.”

“I lied.” Von pressed hard on his carotid artery. He tried to throw her off, but the insistent pressure won the battle, rendering him unconscious.

She rolled him onto his back and fished the weapon from his crotch.

A glance toward the street told her she hadn’t been spotted just yet.

She sprinted in the opposite direction, tossing the bastard’s weapon into a Dumpster. Having him wake up and use it on a cop or anyone else was a possibility she wanted to avoid.

At the other end of the alley, she checked the street in both directions. Another police cruiser, sirens flashing and blaring, skidded into a left turn headed for where her vehicle as well as Jones’s had been left. Two Chicago PD cruisers were parked in front of the duplex reportedly rented or leased by Jones.

Von needed cover until she could determine Trinity’s status and find new wheels.

First she had to get across the street without being spotted. Shouldn’t be too difficult considering the lack of working lights along the block.

She skimmed the offerings along the block, the warm glow pouring from the windows of most proclaiming inhabitants. Likely armed and unfriendly.

Just pick one.

One, only one, was dark as if no one was home or it was vacant.

Von took a breath and headed across the street. She took her time. Strolled leisurely. Walked right up the steps of the porch. No chairs or benches available.

Her heart pounding, she sat down on the top step.

From the corner of her eye she confirmed that no uniforms had headed her way.

She sent a text to Trinity.

Status?

While she waited for a response, she sent a text to Simon Ruhl with the number Jones claimed was his contact for the sale of Lily Larkin.

Von’s stomach cramped at the thought.

Don’t think about it. Just do what has to be done.

Von needed an address … anything to reach this bastard. This trafficker.

Bile burned the back of her throat.

What’re you doing sitting down?

Relief rushed through Von’s veins as she read the text from Trinity. She glanced around.





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