He paused at the window and surveyed the darkness.

Taking his own car wouldn’t be wise. If the police had put out a BOLO alert on him, someone could spot his license.

A cab would be safer.

He pulled out one of his burner phones and called the same cab company he’d used yesterday afternoon for Kayla’s trip to Starbucks. Fished out the credit card number Essie Brown had supplied to make an offering for the funeral service for her sister.

It took fifteen rings for a harried-sounding dispatcher to answer the phone and give him the bad news.

The wait for a cab at this late hour and in this inclement weather was running five to six hours.

Too long.

He’d have to take his own car and hope for the best. If he dirtied up his license plates, the cops wouldn’t be able to ID the car—and in this weather, a muddy plate wouldn’t raise suspicions.

Besides, it was rare for a storm in St. Louis to shut everything down for more than a few hours. His flight could end up departing on schedule.

Armed with that plan, he crossed to the luggage piled near the door. It wouldn’t take him long to load the car and change into his traveling clothes. In less than an hour he’d be at the airport.

As for Razor—if the man was in trouble, there was nothing he could do to help him. If he wasn’t, the instant he verified that the pickup was complete, he’d get a text directing him to the location where all the information necessary to run the operation was stashed. That text and two phone calls—to his Mexican supplier to alert them to the change in command, and to the local police to tell them where Kayla and her roommate were—would be his last chores before boarding.

Then he’d ditch his burner phones and be done with this life of subterfuge.

And all he’d have to worry about after tonight was whether he was getting too much exposure to the tropical sun.

Her feet were numb.

So were her nose and cheeks, despite the scarf she’d wrapped horizontally around the hood covering her head.

She’d also lost sensation in the tips of her fingers.

Cate fought back a wave of panic.

The swirling snow had abated somewhat, but the blustery wind curtailed her speed, and progress along the road was slow. If this kept up, hypothermia could pose a real danger.

How long had she been walking, anyway?

Impossible to tell without exposing her wrist to the elements to see her watch, and doing that would hasten the loss of body temperature.

In any case, the passage of time was inconsequential. Bottom line, she had to keep going until a car came by or she spotted a house through the trees.