No worry. He’d slap that look off her face at the first opportunity.

They’d gotten away. For now.

THIRTY

SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

TUESDAY, MAY 30, 1:40 P.M.

It was like an episode of The Twilight Zone, Tom thought as he watched Liza and Pastor talk.

The man had been like a kindly grandfather with Liza’s patient Brooklyn. And then again later, when Liza had been ordered back to socialize with him, he’d been kind and thoughtful. He’d asked questions about her time in Afghanistan and she’d answered him honestly.

If one didn’t know her, they’d believe that she was having a lovely chat.

“Remarkable,” Raeburn murmured. “He is an utter chameleon. He can torture, order killings, enable rape, and then talk to Liza like he’s Mr. Rogers.”

“I can see how people would follow him,” Croft agreed. “They’d just trust him.”

It was true. Then again, Tom had grown up with a monster, a murderous dirty cop whom everyone had liked and admired. “The best sociopaths can feign empathy. My biological father was the life of the party, the cop all the other cops looked up to. One of the guys on the force even named his kid after him. That was awkward, especially after he was killed in prison.”

Croft sighed. “And all the time he was coming home to abuse you and your mother.”

“Yeah. So I guess I’m a little cynical about people like Pastor.”

“A little cynicism isn’t a bad thing,” Raeburn said. “Keeps you sharp.”

Tom agreed with that, to a point. “But too much can make you bitter.” His phone chimed and he grabbed it, hoping it was a notification of activity on Cameron Cook’s account—maybe Graham telling him that he’d clicked on the link that would allow Tom to control his computer—because they’d heard nothing out of Eden. But it wasn’t from Cameron Cook’s account.

“Someone in the billing office finally clicked on my Trojan,” he said, relief coursing through him. He’d be able to shut the security network down. Best case, they’d order in an outside contractor and the Bureau could get another person inside. Worst case, the security team would be so busy fixing their network that they wouldn’t detect Liza’s presence.

He had opened his laptop and begun to type when a strangled noise from Croft had him looking up at the monitor.

Tom’s blood ran cold. “No, no, no,” he whispered.

DJ Belmont had entered the solarium with Nurse Innes. The two left a moment later, but Tom had seen the look on Belmont’s face. He knew. Oh my God. He knew.

Raeburn was already on the phone with the surveillance van. “Move,” he ordered.

Federal agents, including a SWAT team that had been positioned near the surveillance van, rushed to cut off the exits.

“Run, Liza,” he breathed. “Run.”

Liza did, leaving Pastor where he sat and heading for the exit.

Tom fired off a text to Rafe, who was keeping watch from the employee lot. Belmont in the facility. Liza headed to employee exit.