Page 133 of Don't Say a Word

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“Even priests want to be treated as human and have a normal conversation.”

“I’ll bring him. Text me the time and address.”

I ended the call and turned the ignition.

Then I saw him. The guy who had followed me yesterday. Only he wasn’t driving the old 4Runner. He was sitting behind the wheel of a dark green sedan in front of the vet clinic.

I buckled up and expertly navigated through the narrow lot, thanking both my military training and my brother Jack who taught me how to drive.

I was going to trap him.

I pulled out of the parking lot and sped up. The guy in the sedan saw what I was doing and backed up straight, expertly turned a one-eighty, and merged onto Hatcher, almost hitting a car in the process.

I followed and memorized his license plate.

I said, “Hey, Siri, call Josie Morales.”

Siri informed me that she was calling Josie Morales.

The guy was driving way too fast for the street, but with such smooth confidence I was almost impressed. I kept pace, while also looking at the periphery for pedestrians and other dangers.

“Yep?” Josie answered.

“I’m pursuing the guy who followed me yesterday. I have his plate. Shit!”

He plowed through a red light, causing multiple people to honk. I slammed on my brakes to avoid T-boning a minivan. The mother driving flipped me off.

“Are you okay?” Josie asked.

“He ran through the light on Hatcher at Cave Creek. Fuck!” I slammed my palm on my steering wheel.

“What’s the plate?” she asked.

I told her. “It’s not the same car he was driving yesterday.”

“It’s coming up that it’s owned by an LLC.”

“An LLC? Seriously?”

“Yep, and no address.”

“That can’t be right.”

“It’s unusual. Tyrell says he’s never seen this before. High Force LLC.”

“Who the hell?”

“Sounds like a video game company,” she said.

The light turned green, but I’d already lost him. “I’ll find out exactly who he is,” I muttered.

“Are you okay?”

“He’s following me, I’m pissed. He didn’t try to talk to me, he wants to know where I’m going, what I’m doing. And I think—damn.”

“Damn what?”

“I went to Eyman on Wednesday and talked to Ben Bradford.”