Page 42 of Graveyard Dog

Michael checked his watch. “It’s ten after.”

“It’s our only clue. We’ll start there.” She turned on Cerrillos and floored it. “Put out a BOLO for both vehicles, paying special attention to banks.”

Michael tossed her a sideways glance. “Your partner’s name is Milton?”

“Still on speaker,” Donovan said.

“Because that’s a great name,” he added. “It’s got a cool, old-fashioned vibe.”

“It’s okay,” the guy said, his voice filled with sadness. “I know.”

Poor kid.

“If you two are finished,” Carson broke in, a calculated smirk sliding across her face, “our persons of interest are currently traveling north on Cerrillos.”

Michael’s head snapped around so fast his neck cracked. Even so, he barely caught the taillights of the Jeep as it passed. “Fuck,” he said, for no other reason than, well…fuck.

“Agent Farr, can you look up any banks that may still be open? Focus on the north side of town.”

“Did you see her?” Michael asked. “Did she look okay?” He strained his neck to get another glimpse. He rarely got anxious, but he seemed to be swimming in anxiety since meeting Izzy.

Carson pulled a U-turn and followed the gray Jeep at a distance. “I didn’t look that closely. I didn’t want to tip Sanders off.”

They passed Donovan’s truck. He had turned into a convenience store and pulled out behind them.

Carson got a message on the monitor attached to her dash. “Okay, I have more info on Sanders.” She glanced at Michael, then continued. “Like Izzy said, he was in a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane for eighteen years for killing his wife. Izzy’s mother. He broke out two months ago. He is very unstable and has a history of extreme violence.”

“Left,” Michael said.

She swerved, took a left at the fork, and offered him another worried glance before adding, “He killed his psychologist after she helped him escape. Apparently, she hired a private detective to find Izzy on his behalf.”

Michael worked his jaw, unable to believe the man had managed to find her.

“Oh, and he has an obsessive-compulsive desire to—” She leaned closer to the screen and said, “—to build birdhouses.”

Chapter Nine

I don’t like people who can’t make fun of themselves.

It means more work for me.

—True story

The texts confirmed everything, just like Leo knew they would. Her stepfather was nothing if not clever. Had they released him? Even if they had, they couldn’t have informed her, what with her being on the run and all.

When she read his first text, she’d almost blacked out. The world had spun around her as Michael talked about pizza toppings. When he asked about the texts, she’d almost told him. Had almost begged him for help. But how could she do that to him after everything she’d already put him through?

No, this was on her. She would make sure Emma was never used as leverage, and if that meant the ultimate sacrifice, so be it. At least then, Leo would have no need to get involved in Emma’s life.

First, she had to ditch the man of her dreams. Then she had to do as Leo asked. If he’d really planted a bomb—it wouldn’t be the first time—she had to at least try to find out where. And if she was lucky enough to survive the day, she would do everything in her power to save as many people as she could.

But first, she had a bank to rob.

She snuck into Emma’s room and looked around at the blank walls. Where pink wallpaper and stuffed unicorns should be, the room was palpably bare. The kid had never had her own room. This was a first, and it was supposed to be a learning experience for them both. Picking out paint colors and decorations. She’d had so many ideas.

Sia was packing up her medical kit. “She’s doing great,” the doctor said. “May I use your bathroom?”

“Of course. End of the hall on the right.”

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