“Come on,” he said. “The view is beyond incredible.”
When he abruptly stood and breezed out of the room, she followed.
EIGHTY-THREE
JORDAN
ding dong the bitch is dead that post was her suicide note
—@imag0reh0und
Jordan killed the overheads as soon as he got off the freeway and onto local streets. He didn’t want to arrive at his destination leading a parade of local cops.
But he was still driving fast enough to piss them off if they saw him. He gunned the Interceptor’s engine, slalomed between lanes, and entered intersections on stale yellows and fresh reds.
Driving a marked vehicle helped. Angelenos gave him a wide berth.
When his phone buzzed with an incoming text, he punched the dashboard screen to bring it up.
Ready to retire, Sheriff? I’m way ahead of you and I know where she is.
Fucking Silverman. What was he doing?
Jordan answered by voice.
Tell me where and stop messing around. She is at risk of self-harm.
No answer. No surprise.
Crawling behind two distracted drivers, Jordan hit the overheads again. When one of them moved out of his way, he gunned it again.
EIGHTY-FOUR
CARA
It’s great to be a blond. With low expectations, it’s very easy to surprise people.
—Pamela Anderson
Cara’s mind felt fuzzy, but her body was on high alert as she followed Dylan out of the house, onto the porch, and into the shadowed side yard. He unlocked a security gate and led her outside the wall to a steep path that led up the hill.
“Is that why you cut your hair? So she wouldn’t feel bad?”
“I buzzed it so I could go back to my natural color.”
Taking her hand, he quickened his pace up the hill. Off balance, Cara struggled to keep up.
“You’re going a little fast for me,” she told him, but he didn’t seem to notice as they scrambled up a path that ended at the top of a gated driveway.
“You’re gonna love this reveal,” he said.
Cara was both sweating and shivering as Dylan punched in a security code. The huge teak gates swung open, revealing a brightly lit Tuscan villa too enormous to be considered tasteful.
“Lovely,” she said anyway. “But we should probably get back down. I have no idea how much time I?—”
“How about we skip the house tour and just go around back for a peek at the view? It’ll just take a minute.”
“I guess so.”
