Which is why, as soon as he’d done a cursory walk through the crime scene, Zack had returned to the solace of his car. When he’d noticed the message indicator on his phone going off, informing him that dispatch had forwarded him a recorded call that had come in via his office number, he hadn’t expected much more than a distraction.

Then he’d heard the young woman’s voice on the call, and his entire world had turned upside down. And even after listening to the message three times, in succession, he was still having trouble processing the information—and having an even harder time trying to decide what to do with it.

The message had been short and to the point. The girl had explained that she’d gotten his number from her roommate, with whom he had left his card. She had told him that she was caught up in something, that she and her partner hadn’t hurt anyone, and that they were in danger. And then she had gotten to the most important part: she had told him where she was heading next.

His phone now back in his pocket, Zack continued watching Marsh through the window, shouting at the nearest officers. He knew what protocol was in a situation like this; although he was an FBI agent with his own authority to follow up leads during an active investigation, now that he knew the potential location of the prime suspects in a case involving multiple homicides, he had a responsibility to inform local law enforcement so that they could make the arrests.

Zack didn’t care about the arrests—he didn’t care about who got credit for taking Hailey and Nick in, who would make it into the papers for solving the case. But he was certain that Hailey and Nick were only part of the story; and a heavy-handed arrest would likely eliminate any possibility of figuring out what was really going on.

He also knew—the minute he told Marsh what he had just heard, the man would go off like a thundercloud. He would arrive at the scene with a dozen cops—if not a hundred—along with SWAT vans and trained snipers. If Hailey was in danger now, on her own—how much better off would she be facing Marsh and a few dozen uniformed men with guns?

The truth was, Zack didn’t care about protocol, or credit, or Marsh’s ego. He cared about making the right call. And everything was telling him that the right call was to give Hailey the benefit of the doubt—at least for the moment.

He took a breath, then reached for the ignition.

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty