FBI announces nationwide search for Shelby Pearce for breaking parole. Pearce was recently released from prison after serving fifteen years for murdering her brother-in-law. Authorities say Pearce is suspected of running a drug cartel from inside prison and may have left the country. Missing family members indicate she may have committed additional murders. FBI Special Agent Denton McClure, who is reported to have been living in the area, is under investigation. Sources say McClure and Pearce met at the murder trial and continued a relationship during her prison years.

I tossed the paper aside and scrolled through notices on my phone. One missed call from Mike and another from my boss. I’d silenced my cell after talking to Shelby so I could work uninterrupted. The article had been picked up Sunday by nationwide sources with more dirt tossed at Shelby and growing accusations against me and the FBI’s credibility.

A great way to discredit Shelby’s testimony.

My conversation with Mike was short. Houston needed us in the office tomorrow morning at ten thirty.

71

SHELBY

Sunday night, shortly after darkness covered the city, Marissa told me to change into faded jeans, a plain T-shirt, and the brown chin-length wig. She emerged from her bedroom in slit jeans, eye makeup that rivaled Amy-Jo’s, and black hair.

“We have an errand.” She echoed Eli’s description of her destination earlier today. “Leave everything here. We’re going to a party.” She slipped a gun into the rear waist of her jeans. “It’s a 9mm, little sis.”

“How many will be at this party?”

“Enough to have a good time.” She handed me a cell phone. “I’m giving you a number to call. A man will answer. Tell him your real name and you want to meet with him tonight. The conversation is urgent.”

“Who is he?”

“He’s hosting the party.”

“I’m not sleeping with this guy,” I said.

Marissa laughed. “If I intended for you to earn a little cash, you’d be dressed for it.” She shoved the phone into my face. “Make the call. His name is Lance.”

I pressed in the numbers, and a man answered. “Hey, this is Shelby Pearce.”

“We need to talk tonight.”

“I prefer a private meetup. You have a report?”

“An urgent one.”

“Okay. Near the gazebo on the south side of the park where you sat this morning. Say, an hour?”

“I’ll be there.” I gave Marissa her phone and repeated the man’s words. “Eli followed me today and observed this guy watching me. I noted a man tailing me too.”

“Exactly. I want to know what he’s up to. But your job is to confirm it—easy. You go alone, and I’ll be watching. Got to keep my sister safe.”

Who walked into a trap? The guy named Lance or me?

Shortly afterward, I retraced my steps, minus the coffee shop. Soft lights bathed the perimeter of the park, but darkness clothed the bench from earlier today. I sat and waited, not sure if I wanted Lance to show up.