“Remember, two of your best officers are outside as well. They’re down the street in an unmarked car so Hamilton might not spot them, if he’s planning on coming here tonight. Costa and Harris will be here in the morning. Tomorrow you stay inside the station. It’s the safest place you can be. You go on no calls—none. And then if we haven’t found him by end of day tomorrow, you’re not coming back here. You’re going to hotel headquarters for the night.”

“Damn bossy badge,” he muttered.

She grinned. “It’ll throw him off.”

“And then what happens?”

“That’s the million-dollar question. Maybe his head will explode. We can hope, right?” Kara started up the staircase. “I’m going to make a show upstairs—turn on the lights, walk around, turn off the lights. If Hamilton is watching from the field out back, he’ll think that you’re going to bed.”

Brian rubbed his face with both hands and sighed. “Thanks, Kara. I’m sorry for being so stubborn earlier.”

“I know how to wear people down.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kara came back downstairs. She checked on Brian—he was reading in Trevor’s room. She’d already checked all the windows—twice. She saw Brian’s gun on the nightstand. “I’m leaving the door open,” she said.

“Hope my snoring doesn’t keep you up.”

“Why do you think I slept on your office couch this afternoon? I’m not sleeping tonight. Already started a pot of coffee.”

She went to the kitchen and poured herself a cup. She wasn’t tired, but a steady infusion of caffeine would keep her alert. Not too much, not too little. She’d done this many, many times before.

She had turned off all the lights except for one in the living room. The blinds were closed, and if Hamilton was watching, he knew that Brian came home with a cop. She didn’t want to make it easy for him.

Her phone rang. It was Matt. She didn’t want to talk to him, but she had to because this was now a job, and no way in hell was she letting Brian Maddox get sliced and diced by a psycho nut job just because she was angry at the lead investigator.

“Quinn.”

“It’s Matt. I’m outside.”

“Relieving SPD so soon?”

“No—I want to come in. I just didn’t want to knock and send your adrenaline through the roof.”

“I don’t think Hamilton will knock.” She hung up, looked through the peephole anyway to make sure Hamilton didn’t have a gun on Matt. He stood there alone, and she opened the door. He walked in, bringing a rush of cold air with him. She looked up and down the street. Nothing suspicious. She closed and bolted the door. “Brian doesn’t have a security system. But this is Liberty Lake—most people don’t. So why are you here? Think I can’t handle an all-nighter?”

“I didn’t call Thornton.”

“I don’t care.”

“I think you do.”

“I called Lex, my boss. He didn’t tell me everything about the investigation when I talked to him yesterday—but I knew the feds were trying to take my case away. So I called him on it. He didn’t want to tell me the details because he planned on squashing it before I returned, but he spilled when I told him what Thornton said. Bryce Thornton has had it out for me since I called him on the carpet for fucking up one of my other investigations. So I’ll tell you this—David Chen—the bastard I arrested—is the only witness to my so-called deadly force against an allegedly unarmed suspect. Thornton wants to call it a civil rights violation because the guy I popped was Chinese American? What about the civil rights of all the people Chen owned? Chen runs what some people call a sweatshop but I call slavery, and so would you. He killed my informant. My informant, who I cultivated and protected.”