LITMIR.BIZ

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nodded. “I only turned around for a second and she was gone.”

      The detectives shared a look.

      “She was scared. Jittery. I’m going to search the back parking lot some more. Maybe you can pull feed from the security cameras. Get a picture of her.”

      “If Moose actually had real cameras instead of fake plastic ones then that might be doable.”

      Jude sighed. His lead was gone, and so was the woman. Now he was back to square one on who had been sending money to the pharmaceutical company. Or why. He said, “I’m going to look out back.”

      What he should do was head back to the office and write a report on what he’d tried—and failed—to do. Though he’d rather drive the streets in this area and try to find the woman. He’d probably never see her again.

      Why that bothered him Jude didn’t want to think about. She was probably a criminal involved in a deal with Moose, walking the darker side of the law.

      The detectives shook his hand. One said, “We’ll call if we need anything.”

      Jude nodded and headed to the door, his thoughts still on Zoe. The fear in her eyes had been real. She’d been scared. Frustrated she couldn’t find whatever she was looking for. Had she stuck around, Jude might have been able to find out more about her. If she needed help, she should have asked him for it.

      Jude clicked the locks on his car and realized he’d left it unlocked when he heard the gunshots. Thankfully no one had stolen it while he was inside. Couldn’t be too careful in this part of town. He slid in behind the wheel, ruminating about the case.

      Everything about it smelled of a powerful broker who needed...something from the Salt Lake City–based pharmaceutical company. Money laundering, but why had they used this approach? Surely there were easier ways to do it than using the many accounts held by such a high-profile company.

      As Jude drove in the general direction of the office, his phone rang. He touched the display screen, and said, “Agent Brauer.”

      “Jude, honey. It’s Mrs. McAffrey.”

      “Is something wrong with you or Turner?” Mrs. McAffrey was his eighty-six-year-old neighbor, the widow of a Salt Lake City police officer.

      Turner was Jude’s dog, who she kept an eye on. He figured she left the gate between their yards open because she wanted the company of his old mutt. She also gave him so many treats, and scraps of chicken, Jude hardly needed to feed him.

      “No, honey.” She used the endearment like it was going out of style. “He was out barking at the squirrels an hour ago, but it’s all quiet now.”

      “Oh, good. What can I help you with?”

      “Well, see, the water in my bathroom sink won’t shut off. I’ve turned and turned the knob but it just keeps streaming out.” She paused, and then in her hopeful voice said, “Could you come look at it, honey?”

      “I’m at work right now, but I can call a plumber for you.” He knew she didn’t sleep much, but had she looked at the time?

      “And have some stranger traipsing through my house?” There it was, her hopeful voice again.

      Jude ground his teeth, but heard a noise in his backseat. It didn’t sound like any of the debris rolling around back there. Instead, it almost sounded like a giggle. He glanced in the rearview, but couldn’t see anything. He needed to keep his eyes on the road, not lower the mirror’s angle. He made a right-hand turn instead of getting on the freeway, and headed for a store parking lot.

      He explained to Mrs. McAffrey how to shut off the water using the valve in the cupboard under the sink.

      “It’s very tight. I’m not sure...” She went quiet for a second. “I did it!”

      “Good,” he said. Half his attention was on the backseat, but he didn’t hear anything else from that direction. “It’s still broken, but at least you’re not leaking water anymore. I’ll come by first thing in the morning and check it out.” Hopefully it would be an easy problem, like a worn-down washer.

      “Thank you, honey.”

      “No problem, Mrs. McAffrey.” Jude hung up and pulled into a parking space. He got out of the car and drew his weapon, stepped to the back door and yanked it open.

      The redhead with green eyes sat in the foot well behind the driver’s seat, one hand over her mouth as tears streamed down her face. Zoe took a breath, let go of her mouth and burst out laughing. “That was hilarious. That old woman totally bamboozled you.” She seemed on the verge of hysterics.

      “Get out of my car.”

      Even though she was laughing uncontrollably and tears still rolled down her face, she shook her head. She clambered onto the backseat and shifted away from him at the same time, the duffel over one shoulder so that it bunched against the backrest and lifted her elbow that lay on it.

      “Don’t get out the other side.” If she ran again, he’d have to chase her.

      She leaned forward. That was the moment Jude knew she’d completely lost it. The hysterical laughing turned to hysterical crying and lasted long enough for Jude to child lock the rear doors on both sides before shutting her in. Then he got back in the front seat and pulled the wad of coffee house napkins from the glove box. “Here.”

      She looked at him. She was still pretty, but this might be what his sister called ugly crying. He didn’t put his weapon away, but he did wait until she had pulled herself together before he said, “Why are you in my car?”

      Zoe shook her head. Her hair snagged under the strap of the duffel on her shoulder and...shifted. Jude blinked before he realized what was happening. “You’re wearing a wig?”

      She blew out a breath and pulled the long, gorgeous red hair from her head. Shame. Still, the dark hair pinned against her head wasn’t unappealing. Those eyes though...

      Wait. Was she wearing colored contacts? Maybe everything that drew him to her was fake. Jude’s stomach churned at the idea he’d been duped. This beautiful, innocent-seeming woman was clearly a fraud. He’d been right to be suspicious, and now he was harboring a criminal.

      “What do you want, Zoe? Or is that even your real name?” He didn’t like the hard edge to his voice, but what did she expect after she lied to him? At least she had the decency to wince. Jude was out of patience. “Either start talking or get out.” A thought occurred to him. “You ran out of the Laundromat. You left. You could have gotten away clean. Why are you in my car? And how did you get in it without being seen, since those cops pulled up right beside it?”

      “They were inside,” she said. “They didn’t see me, and neither did anyone else.” Why did it seem like she didn’t know if that was good or bad?

      “You should’ve stayed and talked to the cops. They need your statement.”

      She shook her head then, and a fresh tear rolled down her face. “I can’t talk to the cops.”

      “You witnessed a crime.”

      “That doesn’t mean I have to testify. They can’t make me if I don’t want to tell them anything.”

      Jude frowned. Why was she in his car if she didn’t want to talk to the cops? He was law enforcement. “Sure, they can’t force you to say anything, but isn’t the right thing to tell them what you know? It could help catch that guy.”

      Her gaze flicked away.

      “He knew you.” When she didn’t say anything, Jude said, “He used your name.”

      * * *

      He had. And this man, Secret Service agent Jude Brauer, had heard it. When she’d run out the back door she’d only gone two steps before she ducked to the side and hid behind the Dumpster. If movies were to be trusted, Jude would run past her, expecting her to be ahead

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