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from the room. Actually, Rick wasn’t sure how he’d managed to do that no matter where he might have gone, but it had only emphasized the importance of sowing chaos where he could until he was out of harm’s way. Sending Chris after Liam—something he planned to do at this point, anyway—was his only play.

There was one last decision to make before he left: What should he do about Alice?

Liam Parker

It didn’t take long for Liam to figure out that Alice and Rick were at his condo. That was why Rick hadn’t said anything after Liam had told him where to locate the file with the passwords. No “This better be the truth or else.” He didn’t need to. He’d found the file while Liam was on the phone, opened it, and hung up.

Liam had to get out of here.

He let the tremor in his hands spread throughout his body, then exaggerated it. He slid off the chair and collapsed onto the floor in spasms. He hoped it looked like he was having a seizure.

It took almost a minute before a pair of TSA agents came to check on him. Liam was starting to wonder if there was anybody behind that camera. One of the agents stayed by the door. The other kneeled down beside Liam and grabbed his arm. “Hey, buddy, are you all right?”

Liam didn’t answer. He just kept shaking.

The agent cursed. “Go get help.”

Liam heard footsteps as the second agent scurried away and the metallic click as the door automatically locked. This was it. Now or never.

Be brave.

Liam slammed his fist into the soft flesh between the agent’s legs (something he would have never thought himself capable of before) and yanked the badge off his belt as he went down.

Liam was on his feet in a flash. He held the badge up to the scanner beside the door. The lock released with the same metallic click he’d heard seconds ago. He ran without looking back. He had to assume TSA agents, and probably police officers, were after him. Even if they weren’t within sight, they were watching him on the security cameras throughout the airport. Blending into the crowd was not an option. He wouldn’t be safe until he was in a cab.

Christopher Bell

Emma and Chris were sitting on the sofa watching a Jennifer Aniston rom-com on Netflix. A fire was burning in the fireplace, the lights turned low. It was a quiet evening, until the phone rang.

Emma gave him a look that said, Don’t answer it. He couldn’t help himself. A ringing phone at this hour could mean a tip on the Asian markets.

Chris answered without looking at the Caller ID. Emma’s eyes narrowed to angry slits and, hoping to appease her to some degree, he feigned annoyance. “Who is this?”

“You’re looking for Richard Hawthorne, right?”

Chris’s pulse quickened. His anger level shot up to a ten upon hearing Rick’s name. He tried to figure out who the caller was. Arkin’s voice was raspy, with a hint of a Southern drawl; it wasn’t him. Chris wondered briefly if it might be somebody on the police force, but quickly ruled that out, too.

Emma, just to be spiteful, turned up the volume on the TV.

“You’ll find him at the Best Western on State Street,” the caller continued as Chris pressed a finger to his other ear so he could hear. Then the caller gave Chris the room number and hung up.

Chris let the phone fall away. He had no trouble processing the stacks of business documents he read every day and analyzing them for clues on future stock performance, but this was something he couldn’t quite get his mind around. Why would somebody—a stranger—call him and tell him where he could find Rick? Who besides Emma and Arkin would even know Chris was looking for him?

“Anything important?” Emma asked. Her question was insincere, filled with sarcasm.

“Did you talk to somebody about Rick? Do you understand what kind of trouble I could get in if anybody finds out what I have done?”

“Of course I didn’t. What the hell is going on?”

“Someone just called and told me where I could find him.”

Emma paused the movie. “Are you serious?”

Chris nodded, and thought about it a little more. He decided he only had two options. He could either follow up on the anonymous tip or let it slip away, fretting about who it was from. And what did it matter who it was from if it turned out to be true? Worst case, it wouldn’t lead him anywhere but right back to where he was now.

He hopped up, moved to the closet to put on his shoes. “I have to go.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? They didn’t say?”

Chris shrugged on a jacket. “No, they didn’t.”

“That’s—”

“Strange. I know. But if we want to find Rick before the police this might be our last chance.”

Arkin was more than happy to accompany Chris Bell to the Best Western. For a price. Chris, who didn’t want to make the trip alone, agreed to pay it.

They parked in a lot in front of the hotel.

“This place looks sort of trashy,” Chris said. It certainly wasn’t somewhere he would stay.

Arkin shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”

The men followed the signs to Rick’s room and knocked, each of them standing to one side of the door so they couldn’t be seen through the peephole. Chris listened carefully for any sounds of movement. There were none.

“Are you sure he’s staying here?” Arkin said.

“Let’s find out.”

They returned to the front desk. A receptionist in a suit and tie asked how he could help.

“We need to leave a message for one of your guests.”

“Certainly. Who?”

“Rick Hawthorne. He hasn’t checked out yet, has he?”

The receptionist looked something up on his computer. “Nope. Not yet. What message would you like to leave?”

So, whoever the caller was, he’d been telling the truth. Chris glanced at Arkin, then said, “You know what, I don’t want to bother him. We’ll