Diesel licked his lower lip to hide its twitch. “Classic Stone. A nonanswer to best fit his agenda.”

“Which was to get me here so that I’d talk to you.” She blew out a breath. Closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Diesel. I shouldn’t have barged in here like I did.”

All the texts made sense now. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Where are the boys? Are they all right?”

“The boys are fine. They’re at home with an entire platoon watching over them.”

That thought made him smile. “Good. Can I get you something? Tea? Water?”

Her hand gripped his arm when he started to rise. “No. Nothing. Just . . . give me a minute to regroup.”

He retook his seat, resumed his pose, and waited.

Bridgetown, Ohio
Monday, March 18, 12:57 a.m.

Pulling the ski mask down to cover his face, Cade parked his SUV out of sight of the small safe house surrounded by trees and watched the Escalade until its taillights disappeared. He’d followed that goddamn Escalade out to the middle of nowhere, worried all the while that Detective Stone would stop any minute to find out why he was being trailed, but he hadn’t. Hell of a detective he is.

Stone had dropped Dani Novak off at the house, waiting only until she was inside before driving away. Cade figured there had to be at least one more cop in there guarding the kid.

Grabbing his listening device, he ran to the house, keeping his head down so that he couldn’t be seen from the windows. He stopped at the far corner, which appeared to be the garage. He didn’t want to be seen and he was closest to his SUV here—critical in case he needed to get away fast.

He didn’t dare look in the windows, but he could hear voices just fine from where he crouched at the corner closest to his SUV. The house wasn’t that big and his listening device was delivering their voices to his headphones as clear as a bell. Once he established that the kid was here, he’d crawl around the perimeter, listening for an indication of which room was Michael’s. Hopefully the kid would be asleep. At this point, he was done fooling around. There’d be no bringing the boy back to his house.

He’d do a fast double tap through the window and be on his way.

He held his breath, focusing on the voices. Two people were talking, one male and one female. The woman’s voice belonged to Dani Novak, but he didn’t recognize the man’s. It was deep and gravelly, like he’d been asleep for five years.

“Classic Stone,” the man said. “A nonanswer to best fit his agenda.”

“Which was to get me here so that I’d talk to you,” Novak said quietly. “I’m sorry, Diesel. I shouldn’t have barged in here like I did.”