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Sanchez had taken them deep, deep into darkness.

Police records. Military records. Court records. Local and state records. Federal records.

They were in places supposedly walled off from prying eyes, but Sanchez found the keys to them all.

The printer kept pushing out sheet after sheet of paper. Bianca read each page. Sometimes she showed the data to Annie and the two would confer in whispers.

Chay phoned out for pizza. While they waited for it to arrive, Declan and Annie took a walk on the beach, and Bianca made a call to the psychiatrist treating her former patient.

The conversation eliminated the man from a growing short list of suspects.

“The mental condition of my patient—my former patient—deteriorated,” Bianca said. “He’s been hospitalized.”

Chay started to say something, and Bianca shook her head.

“I know what you’re thinking, but he was committed well before these latest incidents, and Dr. Abbott did me the favor of checking while we were on the phone. My ex-patient is still behind the doors of a locked ward.” She gave a quick, sad smile. “I’m glad. Not that he’s sick enough to have been institutionalized, but that he’s finally receiving appropriate treatment.”

Hell.

Despite the phone calls, the ugly and terrifying things the guy had said to her during those calls he’d made to her when she was in Texas, she was still worried about him, thinking of him and not herself.

“You’re an amazing woman,” Chay said softly, and hugged her.

SEAL and STUD operatives understood the importance of duty. So did his Bianca.

She would always put the needs of her patients above her own, even if it put her in harm’s way.

• • •

The pizza arrived.

They ate out on the deck and spent a few minutes talking about nothing more important than the weather. Not much of a topic, considering Santa Barbara weather was almost always glorious, but they all wanted to put aside, at least for a little while, the increasingly gritty stuff turning up on the computers, stuff about people who were in Bianca’s life.

Then they went back to what they’d been doing, Chay on one computer, Declan on the other, the printer tossing out pages that went straight into Bianca’s hands.

Finally, when it was almost sunset, Sanchez groaned, pushed back his chair, raised his arms over his head and stretched.

“Man, I could use a break. And some food. How about getting to whatever you guys brought back this morning? Or we could send out for pizza again.”

Chay got to his feet, flashed a smug grin and opened the refrigerator. “Do you think you could give up pizza for burgers, corn roasted on the grill, and a couple of bottles of Napa Valley cab?”

“Dude,” Sanchez said with delight.

Chay grinned. “Man does not live by MREs alone.”

“MREs?” Annie said.

“Meals Ready to Eat,” Sanchez said, and shuddered.

“We picked up some cheese, too,” Bianca said. “And a loaf of sourdough bread.”

Chay handed her a wooden board. She put the bread and cheese on it. He grabbed silverware, plates and a corkscrew; Annie snatched up a stack of napkins. Sanchez took four glasses from the cupboard, and they all trooped out to the deck, ready to toast the spectacular Santa Barbara sunset. First, though, there was time for Sanchez and Annie to stroll the beach in the last glow of the dying sun.

“Whoops,” Bianca said. “We forgot the burgers and the corn.”

She started into the cottage. Chay grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. She sighed and settled against him.

“Tough day,” he said softly.