Instead, I thanked him and let him walk back. He glanced over his shoulder once, as though worried I knew, so I dropped my gaze to my phone.

He was an undercover cop. And he was good. I would never have suspected him in a million years, but officers who work undercover had a level of stress that one rarely found anywhere else. And they stressed out about the wrong things. It was like giving a Rorschach to a hundred kids and getting similar answers from all but one. The kid who sees the world differently.

Undercover cops see everything from about twelve angles more than the average Joe. They have to. Their lives depended on it. Never knowing whom to trust. If you’ll be made. If you’ll be joking with the guys one minute and then lying dead with a bullet in your head the next. I didn’t envy him his position.

After he turned the corner, I called Parker. He was on the verge of exploding again, but I didn’t have time for his hissy fit.

“Parker, did you get the footage of the surveillance cameras at the hospital?”

“You tied him up.”

“He was going to commit suicide.”

“What if he presses charges?”

“Pfft, he won’t. He’s got a lot more to worry about than my pointing a gun at him.”

“So, you admit you did it.”

“Parker, what the fuck? Do you have the footage or not?”

“Yes. Why? There’s nothing on it.”

“She was never attacked? Did she argue with anyone?”

“No. We have her whole day. She seemed upset all day, and she’d actually left for a while to grab dinner.”

“So, she left and came back?”

“Yes.”

“And did what?”

“She went into her office. No cameras. And when she came out, she went straight to the lab. It looked like she’d been crying. She was wiping her face.”

I rested my head on Misery’s steering wheel. “Parker, I’m so stupid.”

He didn’t argue. Fucker.

“I think I know what happened, but I need to check one more thing.”

“What? Tell me now.”

“I need to check something.” If I was wrong, I was going to look beyond stupid, so I opted not to voice my suspicions.

“What if you die in a freak accident? Just fucking tell me.”

“I will. Give me until tonight.”

“Davidson—”

I hung up before he could threaten me again and called Cookie.

“You’re alive!” she said, relieved.

“Yeah, Fernando and I totally hit it off. Did you look into Mr. Adams Sr.’s holdings?”

“Oh yeah. It’s like he told you, he sold almost everything a couple of years ago and liquidated all his stocks.”

“Almost?” I asked, not knowing if my heart should fly or sink.

This case was about to get very complicated.

* * *

Postponing my search for Osh again, I grabbed something that closely resembled chicken strips at a drive-through, hit another drive-through for a mocha latte, then headed for the great outdoors. My route would take a little over two hours, but if I was right, and I liked to think I was, it would be very, very worth the trip.

I hadn’t even hit I-25, however, before I spotted a very familiar neon-green van behind me. I pulled into the parking lot of a truck stop and waited. Instead of pulling in, they pulled on to a side street.

I got out of Misery and marched toward them.

They panicked. The looks on their faces were worth the price of admission. When I was about ten feet away, they all stared straight ahead and tried to start the van. Like they didn’t see me coming. And I thought I was bad at acting.

I knocked on the driver’s-side window. They stopped and looked at each other, wondering what to do.

“Roll it down,” I suggested through the window.

The van was old school, and Tristan, the only Ghostbuster without a brother in the gang, turned the handle. The window squeaked on its rollers. It was a long and awkward moment, and all I could do was stand there and fight a grin. I didn’t want to embarrass them. Well, any more than they already were.

“Didn’t we talk about this?” I asked.

Tristan had yet to look at me. When he did, my heart fell just a little more for him, his boyish face sweet and concerned.

“We—we were worried about you,” he said. They all had the decency to look ashamed.

“Why?” I asked.

“The French team. They aren’t very nice.”

“And, no offense,” one of the brothers said, “but one kiss is not going to scare them away.”