The minister was involved in Zeke’s drug ring? He was the one who knew details about Stephanie’s disappearance?

Yet as the pieces began to fall into place, it made perfect, awful sense.

He had the run of Ivy Hill. Knew the property and the players. He could also have contacts in the drug world through clients at his rehab center. Will Fischer may have confided in him about his financial difficulties—and Wilson could have passed that useful piece of information on to the head of the ring.

The minister wasn’t anything like the image he presented to the world—or the man Kayla had thought he was.

No wonder the girl had been distraught and confused.

“Keep walking, Cate.”

Legs stiff, mind racing, she lurched forward again.

Why would a respected man who presided at a popular church . . . who’d founded and ran a lauded rehab center in the heart of the city for addicts unable to afford expensive treatment centers . . . who’d received national recognition for his efforts to clean up the north side . . . be involved in anything nefarious?

She was as confused as Kayla.

“I don’t understand.” She stopped three feet from the duo.

“You don’t have to. Go around to the driver’s side. Get behind the wheel. One wrong move, you can say goodbye to your friend.”

If only she had her Sig!

But it wouldn’t have made much difference at this stage, anyway. Wilson would still have had the upper hand—and if he’d been involved in the other killings, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. The parking lot of a popular mall wouldn’t be an ideal location to shoot someone . . . in fact, it was a huge deterrent . . . but desperate people took desperate actions. And he had to be desperate to pull this stunt. If she balked, it was possible he’d snap.

Could she take that chance?

No.

She had to play along, buy herself as much time as possible to come up with a plan that put Kayla at as little risk as possible.

At least she’d passed on the Starbucks location to County a few minutes ago—though it wasn’t likely they had anyone here yet.

After she circled the car and slid behind the wheel, Wilson settled into the back seat, pulling Kayla in with him.

“Shut the door. Both of you.”

Kayla did as he instructed.

So did Cate.

“You do have a driver’s license, don’t you, Cate?”

No sense lying. If he asked for her wallet, he’d find the one the department had prepared as part of her cover.

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Give Kayla your phone.”

No!

The phone was her lifeline. Without the GPS connection, no one would be able to find her.

“Your phone, Cate—in the interest of Kayla’s health.”

She had to let it go.