He reached the others at the foot of the stairs. Cahill walked them out of the building, where snow was beginning to fall again, big, lazy flakes drifting down from a dove-gray sky. As he left them to return to the warmer building, a smaller car pulled into a spot in the gravel lot, a blonde at the wheel.

“Sophia Russo,” Mendoza said as the woman got out of the car and started walking toward the building.

“What do we know about her?” Rivers asked.

“Not enough.” Mendoza watched the blonde hurry through the large door, then head straight to the staircase leading to the offices where James Cahill had headed. “Not nearly enough.”

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 21

“For the love of God, James, at least let me drive you,” Sophia said, insistent as she followed James from his office and down the stairs to the shop floor.

“I can handle it.” He didn’t want her involved in his problems, and truthfully, Sophia was getting pushy.

Bobby, who had delivered some Sheetrock and was heading to his truck, fell into step with them as they headed outside.

“You haven’t been out of the hospital that long. I can take care of you,” she insisted.

“No.” James thought for a second about their lovemaking. Tempting, but no.

Bobby pointed a finger at James. “You do what she says for a few days or you’ll find yourself back in the hospital, and we all know how much you liked that.”

“Don’t think so.” James stopped outside the barn door.

“Jesus, man. You look like shit.” Bobby woefully shook his head. “What good do you think you’re doing here with us?”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s just for a few days,” Sophia said, sending Bobby a “butt-out” glare. “Until you’re stronger.”

“I’m going home.”

“Your place is a friggin’ nightmare,” Bobby reminded.

“I’ll go back to the hotel for tonight, then. If and when you can arrange for a crew to help me get my place back in order, I’ll go home.”

“And if you fall down the stairs and break your neck?”

“I won’t do that.” Hiking his collar up around his neck, James started walking toward Bobby’s battered Silverado. “If you want to help, drive me to the police garage. Looks like my Explorer’s finally been released from custody.”

“You’re gonna drive?” Bobby questioned.

“Yes, I’m going to drive.” James was growing more irritated by the second. He’d never liked being bossed around, and now just about everyone he ran into thought they had a better idea about how he should run his life than he did.

Bobby asked, “What about the company truck?”

“Oh, fu—” He stopped himself before he cursed a blue streak, because Knowlton was right. The cops had both the Explorer and the GMC truck. “We’ll make two trips.”