“This morning while Molly was packing, I remembered a phone call Daniel made while I was with him in the rectory. I’m not sure where it came from, but he called the man on the phone Mr. Petrov. I remember how respectful he sounded. Now I’m thinking it was fear I heard in his voice, not respect.”

“Petrov,” Edge repeated. “Sounds Russian. Might link to something we turn up. Thanks, Callie.”

“I want those murderers caught. I want Lila safe.”

“We’re going to find her,” Skye promised, a vow they both hoped they could keep.

While Edge drank his coffee, they went over events in the compound one more time, but no new intel surfaced, and without Molly or one of the other women to provide a fresh point of view, it was time to look in another direction.

“I’ve got the address for Sunstar,” Skye said. “It’s on Sixteenth Street in the Market Square Center. We need to check it out.”

“Definitely worth a look, but there’s something I need to do first.” Instead of walking back to his place, Edge called an Uber and they waited on the sidewalk for the vehicle to arrive.

“Where are we going?” Skye asked as they climbed into the back seat of a white Toyota Corolla.

“I told you I needed another vehicle.” Even before their trip to Blancha Springs, Edge had decided to buy a second vehicle, one more suited to his work as an investigator. He’d purchased the snappy little sports car thinking he’d soon be returning to the Green Berets.

He gave the Uber driver the address for the Ford dealership on East Evans.

“So you bought a new car?” Skye said.

Edge smiled. “Sort of.” Once they arrived, he paid the driver, and they started across the parking lot. There were rows of cars, both new and used, every size, color, and shape. He stopped in front of a big, lifted black Ford truck. “So . . . what do you think of this little beauty?”

The look on her face was priceless. “I definitely did not see this one coming.” Skye flashed him a grin. “I never knew you were a pickup man.”

Edge laughed, getting the reference to one of Skye’s favorite country songs. “I grew up on a ranch. I tried to convince myself I needed an SUV, but I just couldn’t quite get there.”

“One word,” she said, checking out the chrome rims, heavy-duty bumpers, and gnarly set of all-weather tires. “Wow.”

Edge grinned. “F-250 Lariat, power stroke 6.7. Four-wheel drive, extended cab, LED quad beams, black exterior package. There’s a fiberglass tonneau cover on the truck bed you can lock down tight. Great place to store our gear.”

“You ordered this?”

“Some other guy did. Before it arrived, he got married and was transferred to Manhattan, made the wise decision not to pick it up.”