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He glanced up. The top of the pile was about twelve feet above him. If he could get up there, he’d be able to see where the others were. He scoped out the easiest route, then put a foot on the rock.

Almost instantly he knew it was a bad idea. Not because the rock was unstable or anything like that, but because of the gun muzzle that was suddenly resting against the base of his skull.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Logan was pretty sure he could twist out of the way and get control of the weapon without getting hit. But when it came to pistols anywhere near his head, pretty sure wasn’t something he wanted to test.

He raised his hands, his own gun pointing at the sky.

“Set it on the rock,” the person behind him whispered, the words almost like breaths. “Slowly.”

As he started to comply, the muzzle came away from his head, and he could hear the person take a quick step backward.

He placed his pistol on the rock.

“To your left.”

Improvising, he started to turn as he moved.

“No. Keep your eyes on the rocks.”

Not seeing a choice, he complied. His gun was now a sizable lunge away.

“Far enough,” the voice whispered. “Now sit.”

He hesitated, confused. He had expected to be immediately marched back to the sedan.

“Sit.”

This time he did so.

Silence descended. In the distance he thought he could hear another footstep.

After nearly a minute, he said, “What are we do-”

“Quiet.”

From his position, the only thing Logan could see was rock. He tried not to think about anything, focusing all his energy on being ready to react at a moment’s notice. Hopefully, whoever was behind him didn’t know that Dev was out there, too.

A distant, angry voice broke through the stillness, and was followed moments later by the sedan’s doors slamming shut. The car’s engine grew loud enough to be heard, then it faded into the distance as the vehicle drove away.

What the hell?

“Who are you?” the person behind him asked. Not a whisper this time.

Surprised, he turned without even thinking about it.

“Don’t!”

But it was too late. He’d seen her.

Diana Stockley was crouched next to a tree ten feet behind him. In her hand was a pistol. She looked nervous and scared, not the combination Logan wanted in a person pointing a gun at him.

“I promise I won’t try anything,” he said, continuing to hold up his empty palms. “Why don’t you put the gun down?”

“No. Who are you?”

“I told you at your bar. My name’s Logan. Logan Harper.”

“That’s a lie. Who are you, really?”

“That’s not a lie. I’d show you my driver’s license, but the others took my wallet.”

“Convenient.”

“If you were watching us, you know they did.”

She stared at him, tight-lipped, but allowed the barrel of the gun to point a few feet to Logan’s right.

“Tell them to leave her alone and not to come looking for her again,” she said. “Make sure you tell them she’s not theirs. Not now. Not ever. Understand?”

“I don’t know who you think I am,” Logan said. “But the last thing I want to do is hurt Sara.”

The woman stared at him. “Don’t you dare say her name. You don’t have that right.”

“I’m only here because of Sara’s husband.”

She looked confused. “Her husband?”

“Alan,” Logan said. “And her daughter Emily, too.”

Diana didn’t move for a moment. Then she stood up, her pistol pointed directly at Logan’s head.

“Who are you?”

Thirty feet behind her, Logan saw movement between the trees.

Dev. It had to be.

Logan made fists with his hands and then opened them, stretching his fingers. He hoped Dev would see it as the hold sign he meant it to be.

“I told you. I’m Logan Harper. Alan’s lawyer, Callie Johnson, is a friend of mine. She asked me to help Alan find his wife. When I talked with him, I met Emily. I know she likes goldfish crackers and that sponge guy’s cartoon, and I’m sure she misses her mom.”

“You’re lying. I don’t know how you know that stuff, but you’re just trying to trick me into telling you where she is.”

So you do know.

As calmly as he could, he said, “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to talk to Sara. That’s all.”

“No. You want to turn her over to that woman, so she’ll tell them…” She stopped herself, as if she’d just realized something important.

“Tell them what?”

“Shut up!” she said. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

“Please take your finger off the trigger, okay? I’m sure you don’t want to kill anyone, and I’m not really in the mood to be killed.”

“You don’t know what I want. You don’t know anything.” She seemed on the verge of hyperventilating when, with obvious reluctance, she removed her finger from the trigger. Taking another step backward, she said, “Stay away from her, and stay away from her family.”

“What am I supposed to tell Alan?”

She tried to laugh. “I don’t believe you ever saw Alan.”

“I sat in the living room of his and Sara’s house in Riverside. I saw the mural Sara painted on the wall of Emily’s bedroom. I’m not lying to you.”

A look of sheer terror flooded across her face as if Logan had transformed into some kind of monster. Her lips moved like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

“I just want to talk to her,” Logan tried to reassure her. “I’m here to-”

Before he could even form the next word, she ran into the woods.

“Wait! Diana, please! I’m not here to hurt her or you! Diana!”

But the only answer he received was the sound of her receding footsteps.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Erica seethed silently as she drove the sedan back to Flagstaff. She would have preferred to be alone, but Markle and Clausen hadn’t done anything to deserve walking back. It was Frisk who’d let Harper get the better of him, and allowed the two men to escape. She would have left him behind if he hadn’t already been in the car.

Who the hell was this Harper guy? And why was he screwing things up?

For nearly two and a half years, this festering wound had nagged at Erica, intruding more and more into her thoughts. If she didn’t fix it, it would come back to destroy her. She had done everything she could, wasting her own money on watchers and the associated equipment costs, spending hours going over bits and pieces of information.

Finally, finally, they had caught a break. Diana had been located again. Different last name, but definitely her. Erica was sure it would only be a matter of days, not weeks or months or years, before Diana led them to Sara. Everything was going to be right. Everything was going to be fine.

Then Diana disappeared and this Harper guy showed up with his friends and everything went to shit.

Dammit!

She forced herself to take long deep breaths so she could bring herself back under control.

All was not lost, she realized. Diana was somewhere in the area, she was sure of it.

With grudging thanks to Harper, she’d received his copy of Diana’s rental file from her former landlord. On the application, Diana had listed one of her previous employers as Harkin Services in El Portal, California. That set off a loud bell in Erica’s head. She checked the records she’d been compiling on her computer over the past thirty months, and found that’s when Diana had also worked for Harkin Services in Flagstaff, Arizona.