“For God’s sake, man. I know it’s just after lunch, but should I be drinking a scotch?”

Josiah replied gently, “This is not the kind of conversation to have over the phone. Let the detectives do their work. After they come back with a warrant and make everything official, maybe you and I can meet for lunch.”

“All right.” Cautious pleasure entered the other man’s voice. “Let me treat you to the best steak you’ll find in the state. How about lunch on Friday? I’ll email you the details.”

“You bet.” As he hung up, he was sure about one thing—the detectives might not have told him yet, but Russell already knew Austin was dead. What the man really wanted to ascertain was what the DA’s office knew.

And he wanted to find out what happened to Molly.

Josiah was ready to leave the office hours before he finally did at six thirty. By then the urge to drive out of the city beat like a drum underneath his skin. He needed to see for himself that Molly was okay.

It was a warm, late-spring evening. He mentally swept his car for devices. He didn’t find any, but things had ratcheted up to a new level of tension, so he implemented the next stage of precautions and drove his car to a local YMCA, where he parked and kept a sharp eye on his surroundings as he strode to a Camry parked down a neighborhood street.

Within minutes, he sped down the highway in the new vehicle. After stopping at the country store for more supplies, it was close to eight o’clock by the time he pulled up to the safe house.

He parked behind the house, then gathered the shopping bags and strode to the back door, picking up speed as he grew closer.

Part of him had waited all day for this moment. Before he could fit the key into the lock, the back door opened and Molly stood on the landing. She smiled warily. “I got worried when I saw the strange car.”

He was unprepared for the spike of fierce gladness that drove through him at the sight of her. As he stepped inside, it brought them close together on the small landing. He looked at the empty coffee carafe she gripped in one hand. “Were you going to try to brain me with that? It’s not much of a weapon.”

“There aren’t many options lying around. I grabbed what was available.”

He kept weapons in the locked safe, but she didn’t need to know that. He looked her over. She had washed her clothes and wore her jeans and shoes from Saturday along with another of his T-shirts.