Page 142 of The Grave Artist

She locked eyes with Selina and saw the raw emotion that mirrored her own. It was a combination of anticipated grief. Mourning the loss of a lifetime of sisterly love that would never come to be.

Wordlessly, she and Selina flung their arms around each other and embraced for a moment before Carmen backed away and held her sister at arm’s length, examining her for injuries.

Selina must have realized she needed to reassure her big sister. “I’m fine. But you need to get people to Christopher Fisher’s place right away.”

“They’re there,” Carmen said.

“He’s the one who killed Dad.” Selina paused. “Well, the one who paid that guy Sweeney to kill him. Fisher was the money-laundering client. And there’s proof.”

“Proof?” Carmen couldn’t hide her shock.

“You know that fighting technique you taught me?”

Unsure where this was going, she said, “Systema.”

Selina’s expression was both fierce and triumphant. “I made a move on Sweeney. Knew he’d win eventually. He had a gun, after all.”

Carmen struggled to keep the ice from her voice. “You fought a man with a gun?”

“Yeah, well, I figured if he wanted to shoot me, he would’ve done it right up front. So, I grabbed this ugly-ass statue and pretended to throw it at him. Only I made sure to hit the window. It cracked the glass.”

Carmen grasped the significance of Selina’s actions. “You activated the security system. It recorded everything.”

“And I got Sweeney to tell me what happened with Dad and why Fisher wanted him dead.”

Carmen stifled comments about how her little sister had put herself at risk. Like their father, Selina must have assumed she wouldn’t survive and found a way to send a message to Carmen.

Unable to say any of this, she gave her a quick hug. Then she broke away to call Grange and request that he have his team secure the security hard drive at Fisher’s.

She turned back to Selina, refocusing her attention on the fleeing suspect. “Now, Damon Garr, your kidnapper. Any idea where he went?”

“He made a call,” Selina said with an even voice. “He was speaking softly, but I heard him talking to somebody about an airplane. He said, ‘Executive airport, north of here.’ Then something about Canada, and a wire transfer. Then he turned on the gas and ran out the door.”

“Any idea which airport?”

“No.”

Heron, who had been listening to the exchange, shot a glance at the pair of patrol officers standing nearby. Carmen could see his eyes narrow in thought. “Either of you shut the gas line off?”

“Me,” reported the taller of the two.

Heron pursued, “How many twists of the valve did it take?”

“Not much.” The cop frowned. “Maybe half a turn, I guess.”

Carmen realized what her partner was getting at. This changed everything.

She turned to Selina. “Garr had no intention of killing you. He probably planned to until he heard we were onto him. Then it was all about escape.”

Selina nodded knowingly. “Sure! Hewantedme to hear the conversation so I’d send you guys in the wrong direction. The gas was just window dressing.”

Carmen appreciated her sister’s quick grasp of the facts. “Exactly, he’snotgoing to an airport at all. He’s driving. Well, to be accurate, someone else is driving him since his car’s here.”

“Mexico?” one of the deputies asked.

“Most likely.” She gave Heron a meaningful look. He took the cue and pulled his tablet from his backpack, doubtless scanning for highway cams.

She said, “He won’t be on the interstate.”