Page 146 of Deep Tide

“No. He didn’t mention what exactly he was working on right now.”

Or that he was in Texas.

She tossed the oven mitt on the counter and surveyed the lemon macarons. “Shit. These, too. I’m going to have to start all over.”

Miranda looked pained.

“Leyla, I’m—”

“It’s fine. Really.” She held up her hand. “You don’t need to apologize.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY

Nicole parked beside the lighthouse and watched the morning light glimmer off the highest windows. It had been raining all week, but now the sun was out, which meant she was fresh out of excuses for not squeezing in a jog after work.

A familiar hatchback pulled up beside her, and Nicole got out of her car.

Miguel Vidales slid from his car and eyed her over the top of his roof.

“I’m surprised you wanted to meet in public,” he said as he joined her on the sidewalk.

Nicole led him to a picnic table beside a sno-cone truck. She sat on the weathered wooden bench, and he took a seat across from her.

“All the cameras have left town,” she told him. “With no new headlines here, they’re off covering other stories.”

Miguel lifted an eyebrow as he twisted the top off a water bottle.

“What’s up?” Nicole took off her sunglasses and checked her watch. “I’ve only got a few minutes before I have to go back for a staff meeting.”

He took a sip of water and placed the bottle in front of him on the graffiti-covered table. “So, I never got your phone call.”

“I never made any promises about that.”

He nodded. “Still. I gave you a lot of help. The Saledo connection. The tracking devices. The list of contractors working for him.”

Which hadn’t included Brian Bentworth.

Nicole still couldn’t believe a cop had done it.

Or maybe she could. An FBI Evidence Response Team had searched an apartment rented by Bentworth in nearby Brownsville and discovered a box hidden in the AC vent. The box contained a six-inch hunting knife, blue twine, and a box of latex gloves.

A murder kit. Right there in the guy’s apartment. Nicole’s lingering doubts about the case—as well as her blind faith in her fellow cops—had disappeared the instant she saw those crime scene photos.

“That’s a lot of help, wouldn’t you say?”

Nicole nodded.

“Now, I need a favor from you,” Miguel told her. “I need you to answer a question for me.”

She watched him, waiting for what he’d say next. She’d known this was coming the second she got his message this morning.

“You haven’t arrested anyone in Amelia Albright’s murder,” he stated, “and we both know you’re not going to.”

Her shoulders tensed.

“I have a source that tells me a certain DEA agent who was recently murdered down here in Brownsville is linked to two unsolved murders in San Antonio.”

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