Abruptly he pulled the SUV to the curb and took his phone back, enlarging the photo with a frown.

“Or what?” Croft asked, seeming unperturbed by his abrupt stop.

He stared hard at the license plate in the photo, wishing it were an actual picture of the plate instead of a picture of another picture. “Or it could be a duplicate.”

Croft’s brows flew up. “A duplicate? How?”

“3D printer.”

Croft frowned. “Shit. I hate those things.”

“They certainly have their place for legit projects, but they do muck things up.” Guns were a particular concern, but license plates were also becoming a problem.

“Can a 3D printer really make a plate that looks real? Because that one looks real.”

“Google it. Include ‘toy’ and ‘custom’ in your search field. You should find a tutorial or two with no—”

“Shit,” she interrupted, having immediately done the search.

“No trouble,” he finished. Tom put his phone in his breast pocket as his personal phone buzzed in the pocket of his trousers, announcing an incoming text. “Give me a second.”

Croft watched him retrieve his personal phone. “Not the burner because it’s blue. Personal, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah. I’d normally let it go, but . . .” He didn’t want to admit it, but he was still unsteady at the thought of Liza standing in front of that glass door. He knew she was all right, but still.

The text was, indeed, from Liza. But not to tell him that she’d arrived safely at the Sokolovs’, as he’d asked her to do. No, this message was curt and to the point.

Abigail saw DJ’s *second* tattoo. Rodriguez says it’s a gang design. Thought u should know.

Oh wow. First Cameron Cook, and now this. Two leads in the same day after weeks of nothing. He showed the text to Croft. “Next stop, the Sokolovs’?”

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Absolutely.”

FIVE

EDEN, CALIFORNIA

WEDNESDAY, MAY 24, 12:00 P.M.

Anything?” Hayley whispered when Graham sidled up behind where she sat on the makeshift bench.

Pastor had designated the largest of the caves to be the church. Because of course he would. Most of the parishioners would sit on the stone floor during services, but she, as a pregnant woman, was allowed to sit on a half-rotten plank balanced on two large rocks.

If the last site was primitive, this place was prehistoric. Please, don’t make me have my baby here. Please.

Graham palmed her shoulders, giving her a massage that nearly had her crying where she sat. Everything hurt. “Nothing that’ll help us get out,” he murmured. “I still can’t find the computer or the dish.”

Hayley had used her pregnancy as an excuse to visit the clinic as often as she could, and each time she attempted a peek into the office. There was no longer a door keeping everyone out of the office. Only a curtain. The outer entrance to the clinic was secured by a sliding wooden door, bolted into the rock itself.