All he could do for Cate beyond that was keep trying to call her . . . and hope the fears he’d dismissed earlier after being spooked by her blood on his coat didn’t come to pass after all.

24

THIS WASN’T WHAT HE AND KAYLA had discussed.

Tyrone frowned and tightened his grip on the wheel as two girls emerged from the cab at the strip mall.

Lucky he’d listened to his instincts and waited in his car for his guest to arrive. That inspired decision bought him breathing space to adjust his plan to accommodate two girls instead of one.

But what a disappointment.

Who’d have thought Kayla would renege on her promise to keep their discussion—and her worries—confidential?

You couldn’t trust anyone anymore.

Cate gave Kayla a hug and continued down the sidewalk to a clothing shop next door.

Kayla went into Starbucks.

Hmm.

Why had they separated?

Had Kayla kept her promise, after all? Brought her friend along for moral support but told her nothing?

A moot point at this stage.

Both girls had to be dealt with. Since Kayla wasn’t going back to Ivy Hill tonight, neither could Cate.

He waited eight minutes, then took out one of his burner phones . . . just as Cate came out of the clothing shop.

She pulled up a hood that shadowed her face and walked to the edge of the window in Starbucks. Stopped to fiddle with her phone as she peeked inside—like she was spying on Kayla. Trying to see who she was meeting.

Some friend.

A few seconds later, she wandered back to the clothing store.

He tapped in Kayla’s number.

She didn’t answer until the third ring.

“Kayla, it’s Reverend Wilson.”

“Sorry. I didn’t recognize the number.”

“It’s new. Be sure to save it in your contacts list.”

“Okay. Where are you?”

“In the parking lot. I think I’m coming down with a cold and would rather not infect everyone in the place—but I didn’t want to cancel our get-together. Why don’t you grab whatever beverage you want and meet me out here? We’ll keep the car windows cracked to let the germs escape, and I’ll reimburse you for the drink.”

“Would you rather meet another day?”

“No. I drove here from downtown to see you even though I’m feeling poorly. I don’t want any misunderstanding between us. I’m in the aisle across from the shop, about eight cars down.”

“All right. I’ll get a hot chocolate and be out in a minute.”

“The perfect drink on this cold day.”

Tyrone ended the call, put the phone away, and felt around in the other pocket of his coat for the 9mm Smith & Wesson pistol he’d hoped never to need.

Too bad it had come to this.