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“ P retty sure it’s a sprain, but you should still go to the ER for an X-ray.” The paramedic finished wrapping Reese’s wrist with a compression bandage and then fitted it with a cloth sling before tightening the strap to elevate it. “Do you want a pain reliever?”

“I have some in my purse.” She’d spotted it lying some distance away from where Hayes had tackled.

Not all that far from his laptop, which looked the worse for wear trapped beneath a twisted piece of metal—part of her vehicle’s front hood.

The roadway and the sidewalk were clogged with blue-uniformed police officers.

He was conversing with one a few yards away, throwing glances in her direction every minute or so.

His shirttails were in shreds. A paramedic had tended a burn and a couple of gashes on his back.

Someone had tried to kill them. The realization circled, but Reese couldn’t quite process it. The rear of her vehicle was still smoldering. Greenley had been murdered hours after she spoke to him. Whoever was behind this obviously wasn’t put off by homicide.

“Any other area that needs treatment?”

She shook her head. Her scraped palms, knees, and forearms had already been cleaned and smeared with antiseptic before bandaging. “Thanks.” She smiled at the man tending her and carefully rose from her seat inside the ambulance. “I’m good.”

“Don’t forget that X-ray,” he called after her as she jumped lightly to the street. She’d already given a statement to one of the uniforms, so she made her way to where Hayes had finally finished his conversation.

“All fixed up?” He gave her a visual once-over.

“Just some abrasions.”

“Other than the X-ray for your wrist.”

Reese sent a fuming glance over her shoulder toward the paramedics. “Sounds like someone’s a real blabbermouth.”

“You need a ride home?” This from the officer Hayes had been speaking to.

“We’ll take one to the hospital.” Hayes’s tone brooked no opposition. In an aside to Reese, he said, “And afterward, we’ll go to your place to pack. I’ll find us a motel. And I don’t want to hear any argument.”

His manner burned, but given the circumstances, she set her irritation aside. “You won’t get one.”

As she paced the motel room, a hard knock at the door had her freezing midstride.

“It’s me.” She recognized Hayes’s voice but verified his identity by using the Judas hole to peer into the hallway before unlocking the security latch and swinging the door open.

“Is your tip included in the order, or do you need cash?”

He brushed by her carrying two large takeout sacks. “I won’t hold my breath for the tip. You still owe me forty bucks from our race in the park. Guessing I’ll never see a dime of it.”

Amused in spite of herself, she took the bags from him and carried them to the counter.

The room was a suite, with a kitchenette off the sitting area and a separate bedroom with a king-sized bed.

She rummaged through the drawers and cupboards, finding some plastic plates and assorted silverware.

When she returned to the counter with them, she set the mound of sandwiches on one, then found her order and shifted it to a plate for herself.

The second sack had bottled water, which she loaded into the refrigerator.

“Are we expecting company?”

“I bought extra. There’s enough for tomorrow. We’ve got a refrigerator and microwave.”

He had his duffel on the coffee table in front of the fold-out couch and crouched before it.

She could see glimpses of bandages through the back of his ruined shirt.

She veered to her purse, extracted two twenties, folded them, and then walked over to tuck them into his back pocket.

“There’s your bet money. Buy yourself something pretty. ”

He gave a muffled chuckle. Reese went back for her sandwich, took it to the nearby table, and sat down, suddenly ravenous.

The hours spent in the ER had been, as she’d predicted to Hayes, a waste of time.

The X-ray had shown no signs of a fracture.

She’d been delighted to discard the sling and compression bandage.

But he’d put the hours to good use. He’d been on his cell almost every minute they’d been there. “You didn’t retrieve your laptop. Is it toast?”

He stripped off his ruined shirt, and pulled a T-shirt over his head. She paused in the act of unwrapping her sandwich, watching the play of muscles on his back clenching and releasing until the tee covered them.

“Physically, probably. And now the internal drive is, too.” Hayes turned and went by her to the refrigerator, took out two bottles, and placed them on the table.

Then he put a couple of sandwiches on the empty plate and carried it over and sank into a chair next to her.

“I contacted Gavin Pounds, Raiker’s top cyber specialist, and told him to deactivate it. ”

She frowned slightly, swallowing before asking, “What’s that mean?”

“Think Adam would want the proprietary information on one of his agency’s computers exposed to a third party? While they’re encrypted, like our cells, Raiker takes cybersecurity seriously. Deactivation involves virtually frying the motherboard.”

“That seems drastic.”

“Not really.” He’d already wolfed the first sandwich down and reached for the second one.

“Our computers are automatically updated to the agency’s servers nightly.

Pounds will have a cloned one here within a few hours, along with replacements for the other electronics.

” Not for the first time, she was impressed by the far-reaching efficiency of Raiker’s agency.

“Besides, there’s no way SDPD was going to let me remove the computer or sniffer from the scene.

They’ll sweep it up in their evidence collection. ”

She finished the sandwich and twisted off the cap to her water. Drank. “He’s not afraid of the sniffer landing in SDPD’s possession?”

“Those devices are available for purchase to law enforcement. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if their Explosives Unit already have them.”

Surprised by her appetite, Reese got up and found another sandwich she liked.

Unwrapped it on the way back to the table.

“The officer I spoke to asked several times about what personal items were in my vehicle. Other than a couple of blankets and the things in the console and glove box, I didn’t have much. But you did.”

“Yeah.” He was eating his second sandwich at a slightly slower pace. “The delivery tomorrow will include a replacement evidence kit and hand gun safe.”

“You no longer have a weapon to place in it,” she observed.

The tee hugged his shoulders and biceps in a way the ruined dress shirt hadn’t.

Their kiss this morning seemed a very long time ago.

But she figured after nearly getting blown up, if she could still appreciate his physique, she was on her way back to normal.

“Mendes called while you were getting the X-ray. He’ll send an officer over sometime this evening with a new one.”

Something in his voice alerted her, and Reese set the sandwich down and reached for her water. “And?”

“This morning Thorne was spotted in San Marcos.”

Ice skated over her skin. Her hand clenched the bottle. “That’s less than thirty miles from Tranquility Lakes.”

He nodded soberly. “They got an excellent description of the vehicle he was driving. A black Dodge Caravan. Possibly 2015 or 2016. They put out a BOLO on it. A CHP patrolman thinks he saw the vehicle with someone matching Thorne’s description in eastern Chula Vista a few hours ago.

The task force is combing the area now.”

That meant Thorne was close by. A vise seemed to squeeze her from the inside out. After the homicide in San Pedro, he’d headed back this way because she was here. And he wasn’t done yet.

Hayes reached over and covered one of her hands with his. “The task force is closer than they’ve ever been. They’re pulling out all the stops. Air support, local police. It could be over by tomorrow.”

Over. Reese tried to wrap her head around the thought.

There was more going on here than the Trifecta Killer intent on finishing his latest rampage.

Greenley’s murder. McNulty’s assault. Today’s car bomb.

Too many loose, seemingly disconnected threads that didn’t quite link.

They made even less sense with Thorne in the center.

She couldn’t let go of the conclusion she’d drawn about the predator’s abilities.

His mind had been a vortex of random, disjointed thoughts.

A car bomb would be far outside his skill level.

His compulsion for savagery included violence by his own hand, according to the twisted dictates that his unfortunate childhood had forged inside him.

The financial advisor’s death, too, was far too nuanced for the TK.

How would the two men’s paths ever have crossed?

It would be a mistake to blame Greenley’s death, McNulty, and the car bomb on Thorne. The common denominator in all three events was Reese herself.

Who benefited? That was the question that kept knocking at the base of her skull. The answer had never seemed further away.

His thumb stroked her hand before he withdrew it. Resumed eating. “What’s bothering you?”

“Aside from being framed for murder, kidnapped, assaulted, and almost blown up?” She forced a light tone to alleviate his concern. “Everything else is peachy.”

“It’s hard to recall blue skies when you’re in the center of a storm. But things are starting to gel. The police have the pictures I was able to get of the navy sedan when it passed by the parking lot.”

“Do you think it’s the same one that was following us on the highway?”