Page 67 of Run While You Can

Games didn’t require the players to stay in one place. Sometimes the best moves happened when people believed they were stepping away, regrouping, catching their breath.

I smiled again.

There was so much more waiting to unfold—threads they hadn’t seen yet, patterns they hadn’t recognized. They thought they were chasing answers.

They weren’t.

They were following the path I’d laid out for them.

Seemingly random yet perfectly planned.

I smiled. I even managed to alter the security footage at the parking garage.

Most people didn’t suspect I knew so much about computers. But I did. In fact, I’d started my career working in IT. Those skills I’d learned back then were valuable.Veryvaluable.

My thoughts drifted back to Gina.

Cold. Tired. So very alone.

I found comfort in that . . . just as I’d found comfort in the others who’d felt that way as well.

Yes, this was a game. But the winning play was always the same.

After all, my favorite saying was: There is no death like death alone.

I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate.

CHAPTER

THIRTY

Andi grippedher phone as she and Duke walked into the police station, the weight of the parking-garage footage pressing against her ribs.

This time was different.

This time they weren’t asking for speculation or favors. They weren’t offering hunches or intuition. They were bringing evidence—grainy, imperfect, but undeniable.

Hawkins sat behind his desk, coffee-ringed paperwork spread in uneven piles around him. His expression barely changed when he saw them approach.

“Back again.” The words weren’t a question. Instead, annoyance laced his voice.

Andi remembered her vow not to back down to bullies, to the apathetic or the arrogant. Right now, Hawkins fit all three.

“Yes.” Andi paused in front of his desk. “And this time, we have something you need to see.”

That earned them a grunt.

Andi placed her phone on the desk and slid it forward, parking lot footage playing.

Detective Hawkins squinted at the screen as he watched.

Gina walking through the garage. The van in the corner. The sudden flare of light that swallowed details whole.

The detective’s jaw tightened. “Hmph.”

He paused the video, rewound it, played it again—this time slower. He leaned in, elbows on the desk, pen already in hand as he jotted down what he could make out.

“There,” he muttered, the first hint of excitement entering his voice. “Plate’s partial, but it might be enough.”