“We know about him. Marissa’s been seen in Miami with a Chinese businessman by the name of Feng Liu, who owns what appears to be a legitimate import-export company dealing in the supply of automobile parts. We suspect Liu’s smuggling heroin worldwide and is in tight with a man in San Francisco by the name of John Rudder, who owns an auto parts distribution warehouse. The theory is Rudder is receiving Liu’s inferior merchandise and selling to unsuspecting buyers and that heroin is somehow involved in the transactions.”

“I have no idea where Marissa’s interests are vested other than she got started money laundering through cash businesses and bakeries.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“No.” I forced a laugh—one I didn’t feel. “I can’t give up. Got to find a way into her head. She’s spent thousands of dollars on clothes and disguises for my future with the constant threat of not disappointing her hanging over my head. Why allow me to accompany her to private meetings? Does she think I’d never betray her, still have this sister-loyalty thing? Why groom me for a potential position, then turn around and leave my body in a ditch? I’m sorry. You don’t have the answers either.”

“Let’s get you to a safe place. What you’ve told me is enough.”

“Nothing that will stand up in court.”

Denton relayed his visit to Randy Hughes. “Glad he’s in a good place, as long as it sticks. Is Eli Chandler often at the condo?”

“Yes. I think he lives in the building. At one time he and Marissa were an item. He’s made mistakes, as we already know, but he’s still in the picture. Makes me wonder if he’s Aria’s father.” I glanced above the pages and in the distance, I saw a man who’d been at the coffee shop. “Talk to you later. I gotta go.”

I closed the book around my phone and slipped it into my purse. I grabbed another phone Marissa had given me. Pressing in Eli’s number, I counted three rings before he picked up. “Checking in. I imagine you’re missing me.”

“How’s the park?”

“I’m near the gazebo reading, and it’s relaxing. Is Marissa up?”

“She had an errand.”

“Care to join me?”

“Are you hitting on me? Marissa might not approve.”

The thought gagged me. “Who says she needs to know? In case you haven’t noticed, she’s tired of me.”

“Imagine that.”

70

DENTON

Panic squeezed my mind. Why had Shelby ended the call? Fear of losing her pushed me into working every detail to arrest Marissa. For the next few hours, I analyzed info that appeared to have her fingerprints. I’d sent the FIG several requests centered on Feng Liu and John Rudder. Linking either of them with Marissa furthered the investigation. She only thought she’d outwitted the FBI, and somewhere along the line, she’d slipped. A persistent sting in my spirit told me her actions with Shelby were deliberate . . . and led to a murderous end.