“Busy night,” Kraemer remarked, droll as ever, but the tightness in his voice indicated she had his attention. “I thought you gumshoes only investigated insurance fraud.”

“Got that penciled in for tomorrow,” Tera replied, equally droll. She looked at the two items on the kitchen table. One was an expired green card, the other a recent vehicle inspection report form. She referenced both now. “Okay, get a pen, write this down.”

A brief pause, the sound of Kraemer opening a drawer. “Go.”

“I need you to put out a BOLO for Ramón Sojo Aparicio.” Tera spoke slowly, then spelled it out. “Venezuelan male, thirty-two years old. He’ll probably be driving a blue 2012 Ford Econoline, Nevada plate: two-five-Charlie-six-one-four.”

“Give me a starting point, Tera.”

“I’m in a town called Pale Bone, fifty miles—give or take—south of Vegas.” She guesstimated when Ramón had vacated his property, based on Luke’s Track-U-Gen data. “He can’t have gone far. Within a one-hundred-mile radius, I’d say.”

“That’s a lot of real estate.”

“Mostly desert, not many roads.” Tera flicked hair from her eyes and sneered. “You’ll find him.”

“On it,” Kraemer said. “But first, I want to know why you called me, and why I’m pulling the Hayes file.”

Tera picked up the green card, studying Ramón’s photograph—his close-set eyes and bony, V-shaped face.

An ugly fucker, really, Luke had said, sitting opposite her in the interrogation room. Kind of . . . bat-faced.

Quite an accurate description, as it turned out.

“It’s your name on the file. Your case.” Tera tossed the green card back onto the table. Her stomach and head rolled in different directions. “I was wrong, Adrian. So fucking wrong.”

“About?”

“Everything,” Tera replied. The word dropped from her mouth like a small, jagged rock. “Find that van, and I’m ninety percent sure you’ll find Lisa Hayes.”

Her phone chimed moments after she ended her call with Kraemer. It was Johan, finally responding to the one-word text she’d sent at Stray Bullets.

just chill I’m on it

The strength went out of Tera’s legs. She flopped into one of the kitchen chairs, her breathing reduced to tasteless sips of air. She thought of all the shit she’d put Luke through over the past three years—the accusations, the excessive force, the harassment—but this was in a different stratosphere.

“Oh Jesus,” she gasped. All she’d ever wanted was justice. She’d wanted the right thing. “Jesus Christ, what have I done?”

Her phone buzzed again.

I’ll let u know when its done

Tera blinked, looking hopelessly at the message. It at least meant that Luke was still alive. Of course he was. Johan would draw this out for as long as he could.