Page 40 of Nicole's Shelter

“Told you it was ugly. Stay away from the office. Nothing personal, Ms. Livingston. I got a head’s up from a friend that the car registration was just researched and confirmed. You might claim to be with National Insurance, Rick, but they know you’re driving a car registered to Cypress Security.”

“Dammit.” He slammed his fist against the steering wheel.

“That’s putting it mildly. You got anywhere to hide?”

“I’ll think of something.” He had a couple of ideas. It all depended on whether or not they were already being tailed. “I need any pictures you can find of the gang house fire last night.”

“Okay.”

“Get me whatever you can dig up on Clifton and if his work history coincides with arson events. Big or small.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.” He didn’t have anything more solid than a nagging suspicion anyway. “I’ll let you know where we end up.”

“I have a place in—” Nicole blurted.

“Don’t say it,” Eva barked.

Rick cringed. Eva’s guarded behavior meant things were likely blowing up all over the place on her end. He looked at his passenger. “It’s clean?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said for Eva’s benefit.

“Keep me posted on the alternate channel and for God’s sake don’t get caught. By anyone. I’ll coordinate with the boss and send what help I can when I can.”

The phone showed the call disconnect and the ensuing silence felt like the weight of the world pressing down on him. He reached out to caress Nicole’s shoulder, to offer comfort, but she jerked away.

“I’ll get you through this.”

“Clifton is his name?”

“You didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “They never told me. They never—” her voice hitched “—never brought the case to trial so I never heard his name.”

“But you can recognize him?”

“I’ll never forget his face. Or what he did.”

“They didn’t tell you who accused you of setting the fires when you were a kid?”

“Maybe my mother knew, but I was preoccupied with how I was screwing up everyone’s life. At that age I didn’t want to believe the required anonymity would last forever.”

Rick caught sight of a motorcycle in his rear view mirror closing in fast. He glanced down at the dash and kept his speed right at the limit.

“How many times have you been relocated?” Since leaving the Army and working with the investigations team, he’d learned kids were particularly hard to keep hidden. They didn’t mean to let things slip, but it happened.

“Once it was a bizarre chance meeting with an old friend in our new area. The second time it was a series of small fires.”

“With the signature?”

“I wasn’t told and I sure as hell didn’t go anywhere near them. The fires combined with an escalation of violent activity between local gangs worried WITSEC so they moved us anyway.”

The motorcycle blew past them, the driver leaning low into the wind. Any other day Rick might have considered the biker food for speed traps or something equally mundane. Today, the lone biker set off alarms in his head, despite the lack of gang colors or symbols.

“What kind of gang, Nicole? Where did you live when the execution and all of this started?”

He thought of the gang members he’d seen at the fire. They’d been near cars, and he’d been focused on Nicole. He didn’t recall any motorcycles.

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