Edmonds took his time adjusting the Velcro straps on his vest—or was he using his silence to make a point? Finally, he said, “Your tip about Nawabi put me on the fast track for a promotion. You know what that means?”

“First in line for a desk job?”

“Got that right.” Edmonds grunted. “I’m not a fan of sitting behind a desk . . . but my fiancée is. Got it in her mind that what we do can be dangerous.”

“Reasonable concern.”

“Yeah, well, I like making her happy, so I guess that gives you first rights to Annika.” Edmonds dug in his pocket and pulled out two earpieces. His gaze held steady on Frost’s edgy movements. “Here, you’ll both need these. You’ll hear a lot of voices, but the only one you need to listen to is mine.”

The directive was aimed at Frost. There was nothing more unnerving than a jittery team member, whether the mission took place on a dusty road in an Afghani valley or on the suburban streets of Savannah. No one wanted an accident.

Charlie put in the earpiece and Frost did the same. Right away chatter filled his ear. A disgruntled voice argued with another.

“You ready to arrest the wicked witch of Savannah?” Frost smirked.

“I’m ready for some answers.” Although Charlie wouldn’t mind seeing a pair of silver handcuffs melt the icy glare off Annika’s face.

“Load up. We roll in five.” Agent Edmonds’s voice spoke into their ears.

“You think Miguel Roa’s the killer?” Frost asked as he climbed in one of the vans after Charlie.

“I believe Annika is the link that will connect all the pieces.”

“You hear what they’re saying about him?”

Charlie gave a tight nod. If Miguel was involved in Sydney’s death, he’d never get a fair trial in Walton. Lane was right. The truth about Miguel’s condition had colored him as crazy and capable of murder without anyone batting an eyelash that maybe there was more to the story. Maybe Lane and Miguel really were similar. Two people forced to suffer alone because people didn’t understand them. They suffered in silence until it became unbearable. Like his friend Tate.

“I think it’s pretty cool of Lane to stand up for him.” Frost ran his hands down his pant legs. “There’s an old bridge near Coastal Highway that crosses a narrow part of the Ogeechee River. They call it the jumping bridge because people go there to, you know, end it. Rode my bike there one day after school when the teasing was really bad.”

Charlie’s throat grew dry. He knew exactly what bridge Frost was talking about.

Frost tugged down on his vest. “I was ready to jump, but you know what stopped me?”

“What?”