“And we intend to keep it that way. Problem is, I don’t have time to drive you there and get back to follow up on Denton’s call.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got an idea.” Mike would earn his retirement.

62

SHELBY

Timing, the crucial element of every sting operation. An exhilaration in my spirit gave me incredible energy, or perhaps the adrenaline came from my commitment to bring justice to light and honor Travis’s memory. With an hour left until I made my exit and met up with Mike Kruse, I showered and dressed.

Alone in my cabin, my mind refused to slow down. I’d listened to Denton talk about money laundering and read FBI articles. I banked on Marissa’s delay to memorize what I needed to know.

Marissa had attempted four times to persuade the parole board to review my case. Now I saw her persistence wasn’t for my benefit. If she’d taken off while I sat behind bars, I’d have nailed her. So I needed to be out of the picture. As a result she used Mom and Dad’s generosity as a cover, like she’d used the family bakery, church involvement, community activities, and at least one alias. Did she work for Eli Chandler or the other way around?

Slow down.

I tossed my inhalers, my journal, and a few clothing items into my backpack. Not a difficult task when my life’s belongings could be held in one hand. I’d entered the official world of minimalism.

Not calling Dad needled me, but I’d given Denton my word not to contact him. The FBI were en route to transport Dad and Aria into protective custody. I longed to be with them, to hear their voices, and touch them. Soon . . . First things first.

My flashlight kept me company until Mike texted me for the meetup. My God, who held the grand kaleidoscope, promised myriad colors for the future.

The GPS on Mike’s car sent us in a northwestern route, an hour away.

His stomach growled. “We should have grabbed some donuts.”

I reached behind the passenger seat for a small box. “What’s your poison? Because I have a mixed dozen of day-old Amy-Jo’s specialties.”

“Tempt me.”

I pressed the light on my phone and flipped open the lid. “Glazed donuts. Chocolate-filled donuts. Blueberry scones. Sausage-egg bagel. Bear claws. Apple fritters—”

“Sausage-egg bagel, then the apple fritter. Too bad we don’t have coffee.”

“Next time I’ll pack it. Orange juice too.” I handed him his early morning breakfast.

“Shelby, you’re a brave woman.”

“Not really. I’m tired of playing the scapegoat. Praying this time the plan works.”

“Relax, you’re sitting beside the best of the best.”

I laughed. “Typical FBI mentality. But a little confidence is good.”

“You must be talking about Denton. The man has fallen hard.”

He wasn’t alone. “I’ve tried to talk him down. A supposed relationship has little chance of survival. He deserves a woman without a past.”