He gives me a slow once-over with a grin. “Hey, mami, con que te ayudo?” I get the feeling he’s asking if I need help with more than just my car.

“I’m looking for Chris.”

“He’s gone.” The guy leans back and crosses his arms. “You the one who called earlier?”

“Yeah. Could you give me his number, por favor?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I can’t just hand out his number to some random hyna.”

“It’s an emergency.” I lean on the counter and give him my best pleading look. The guy’s eyes immediately dart down to my chest. He’s not exactly subtle. But he isn’t budging either. “It’s about Shawnda,” I add.

He gives my boobs another long appraisal and clears his throat. “Yeah, okay. But don’t tell him you got it from me.”

“Gracias.” I glance at my watch while he scribbles numbers on a Post-it. Chris only has an hour before the window of his death begins. This is my one chance to warn him before then, and if this number doesn’t work, if this guy is playing me, there’s nothing else I can do.

But just as I’m slipping the number in my pocket, Chris walks into the shop. “Cortez, give us a minute,” he says, and the guy behind the counter disappears into the back.

I almost want to hug Chris it’s such a relief to see him alive. But he glares at me, the muscles in his neck twitching, a heavy wrench clutched in his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks.

“Trent and Zoe are dead,” I say quickly. “I think you’re next. You have to get out of here. You have to—”

“What?” His eyes bulge a little. “How do you know they’re dead?”

“I-I went to see them and found their bodies.”

He grips the wrench harder and growls, “Get out of here. Now.”

“Chris, listen to me. I’m not the killer. I don’t even have a gun!”

“Yeah? And where’s your boyfriend?”

“I don’t know! But I don’t think he’s the killer either.”

“No, course not. ’Cause he tricked you, and now he’s going to set you up.” He shakes his head. “You’re the one who should run.”

“But Shawnda and your son—”

“I don’t need your help!” he yells, getting right up in my face. “I have it under control! Now get out of here before I call the cops!”

I step back, stunned by his outburst. I don’t think he’ll hurt me, but then again, he had no problem punching me before. The fan whizzes behind us as I stand there, staring at him and willing him to listen to me. But he just smacks the wrench against his palm, his eyes hard, and I finally turn around and walk out.