Sebastian pressed the elevator call button, and again his thoughts spiraled back to the day the judge sentenced him to life in prison. Again he reminded himself he wasn’t a frightened nineteen-year-old kid. He wasn’t trapped and he wasn’t powerless. He could fix this. He didn’t know where Grace was, but he sure as hell knew who had her.

First, he had to deal with Maya Dawson. She had called moments after Ava had left, and told him he had to come to the Center right away. It was about Sixto Ferreria, Frank’s former IT guy and the second person who, like Link, had received a text from Paul. Maya said it was urgent but she didn’t want to get into it over the phone.

Sebastian knew why; he was using burners that weren’t encrypted. He wanted to toss his original phone into the garbage; then he remembered his secretary had given Paul his number. Best keep it for when the prick called.

As Sebastian rode the elevator to the top floor, he saw his reflection in the mirrorlike stainless-steel door.

“Grace,” he told his well-dressed reflection. “My daughter’s name is Grace.”

CHAPTER 37

SOMEONE IS ALWAYS watching or listening or both.

Roland’s first words to her, the day she’d met him for undercover training.

No matter where you are, no matter what time of day, even when you’re sleeping. You always have to be Faye Simpson. And sometimes Faye Simpson will have to say or do things that Ellie Batista would never say or do. If you can’t commit to that, then tell me now, spare me, the bureau, all the people who will be working for you, the time and expense.

Ellie gave Roland her word that she would do whatever it took.

When she walked into the restaurant a few minutes shy of seven and saw Max, she acted excited to see him. She kissed him, pretending he was Cody, her real-life boyfriend, and not her make-believe one.

After she broke away from his kiss, Max slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. “It’s so good to see you,” he said, and then kissed her cheek. His lips slid to her ear and he whispered, “Last stall.”

Ellie knew what that meant.

Her tastes in cuisine were limited to taco trucks, Five Guys double bacon cheeseburgers, and, when she really wanted to celebrate and let loose, a buy-one-entrée-get-the-second-free coupon special at a local restaurant. She never understood the fuss of getting dressed up all fancy to go out to eat, but as the hostess brought them to their table, Ellie had to admit Belle Âme was pretty damn impressive. First, there was the matter of the building—the historic building, she had read on the restaurant’s website, that had once been home to the Bank of Italy. The gold-domed ceilings looked luxurious instead of Las Vegas tacky; the booths were upholstered in rich, dark leather; and the tables had candles, the flames twinkling like stars in the gloom.