“That’s true, he did save her life. But once she realized he was dead, she went into crisis management mode. Took out one of the snipers while a few other soldiers took out the others. Then she was like . . . how did her CO say it? Oh, yes. Like Florence Nightingale on speed, running from person to person, triaging, doing first aid. She took a bullet in the hip, kept on going.”

“I knew about the graze, but not that she’d kept going,” Tom said quietly. And I should have.

“It was enough of an injury that she was awarded a Purple Heart.” Molina made a sound halfway between a fond huff and a dry chuckle. “I tried to recruit her. She said no, that there was already one FBI agent in the family. She just wanted to be a nurse. If I could have her as one of my agents, I’d jump at the chance. Since she already told me no, I’ll take her involvement with Sunnyside Oaks. I only tell you all this because I know you’ll continue to worry.”

“Of course I’m going to worry,” Tom snapped. “She’s already been in his crosshairs once.”

“I know. But when that picture fills your mind, replace it with one of her grabbing her rifle and shooting rooftop snipers to save her fellow soldiers and innocent villagers.”

He hesitated. “That sounds like personal experience talking.”

“It is. My daughter is a cop. Says she’s following in my footsteps. Sometimes I wish she’d followed her father’s footsteps into culinary school. I remind myself daily that she is smart, highly skilled, and makes a difference.”

Tom knew it was time to surrender. “I still don’t want Liza there, for the record. But I understand and I’ll do everything I can to make sure she and the others are as safe as possible.”

“I knew you would. Now, get to work.”

GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

THURSDAY, MAY 25, 11:50 P.M.

DJ blinked hard and rewound the camera’s video back to the point where he’d dozed off. Again. He was tired. And he hurt again. He’d pulled something dragging Nurse Gaynor from the car, and the ibuprofen he’d bought at a convenience store hadn’t touched the pain.

He wished he had some of the pot that had once filled the basement of his home in Yuba City. Or the house he’d rented next door. The one the cops had seized. Fucking sonsofbitches.

Kowalski had probably been pissed off by that more than the Ellis woman being tagged as a homicide. The marijuana in the grow house had been ready to harvest. He didn’t want to think of how much of his income the cops now held.

Better than holding you in a prison cell, though. Which was true enough.

After ensuring that Pastor’s new nurse wouldn’t even consider selling out to Kowalski, he’d borrowed a wig from Nurse Innes in case Kowalski’s men had returned to watching the gate. Then he’d driven Smythe’s Lexus back to the house and downloaded the video from the pink camera in the window. It was so boring. And this bed was so comfortable.