Except... That car wasn’t parked on the street last night. She’d done a perimeter check when they got home, then had the backup patrol check at regular intervals. She made note of all the houses and cars within the sight lines of Brian’s house. Most cars were garaged. A truck had been on the street all the way down. Not that dark gray, older model Camry.

Someone was sitting in the driver’s seat.

She motioned to the cop who was with her to stop—she didn’t want to call attention to herself and give the Camry driver any reason to think she was onto him. Then she pulled out her phone and hit Costa’s number.

“Costa,” Matt answered.

“It’s Quinn. I think our suspect is outside Brian’s house, parked down the street in a dark gray Camry.”

“Plates?”

“Can’t see them. The car’s running. It wasn’t here last night when we arrived or during any of the hourly perimeter checks. ETA?”

“Seven minutes, maybe less. Do not confront him.”

“When since you’ve met me have you ever thought I was an idiot?”

As she watched, the Camry started moving. Then it accelerated fast down the street.

“Shit, looks like he’s bolting. He was probably expecting Brian. He’s not going to engage me.”

“Can you get a visual?”

Though she itched to confront the driver herself, she didn’t want to tip her hand if it was Hamilton. She turned partly away from the Camry as if she hadn’t noticed it, and said to the backup officer, “Don’t be obvious. I think our suspect is in that gray Camry down the block. I can’t really make out who’s in the driver’s seat, but do you remember when the car arrived?”

“No. It wasn’t there last night—and I don’t remember seeing it when we approached the house a few minutes ago.”

The cops were inside for less than five minutes. Was the car parked elsewhere? Had he just arrived? There were a few places he might have been hidden that Kara couldn’t see from Brian’s house—why had he pulled out now?

Because he knows Brian’s routine. He knows he turns on his truck every fucking morning to warm up.

Kara ordered the officer to go back into the house and stick with Brian, then she ran back to the truck and jumped in. She immediately backed out and just missed hitting the Camry. Damn! She thought she could nail him with her bigger truck, but he was moving too fast. If she hit him and it wasn’t Hamilton, she’d have apologized. That’s why she had insurance, right?

She caught a glance at the driver as he rounded the corner. She was certain it was Hamilton, though he didn’t look much like his license photo. But he was familiar. Had she seen him recently?

She put Costa on speaker as she pursued the suspect.

Costa was in the middle of a sentence. “...dammit, she’s gone and...”

“I’m still here,” she said. “I’m in pursuit.”

She hadn’t driven a squad car in years, and this truck was decked out completely differently than the LAPD black-and-whites.