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Hez took a deep breath and walked into the Baldwin County District Attorney’s Office, an unassuming one-story beige building in Bay Minette. Hope greeted him in the reception area and took him back to her office. She looked as polished and professional as ever, but he caught the stress in her tight smile and tense shoulders. And she could probably see the same taut nerves in him.

Two days ago, he and Ed had met with her here. She’d been very interested, and the three of them called Hernando from her office for an impromptu interview. After that, she thanked them and shooed them out, saying she would have a lot going on. That was the last Hez had heard from her. He understood, of course—he’d been in her shoes plenty of times. But that didn’t make the radio silence any easier to bear, especially with Savannah now on her way to New York. So in the Uber on the way home from the airport, Hez had called Hope and asked if he could buy her a cup of coffee. She’d replied that she couldn’t leave her office right now, but he was welcome to stop by. And here he was.

Her office was a utilitarian box with a view of the sidewalk outside, but she had added some personal touches—shells and a jar of sea glass from her regular beach trips, family photos, and a blown-glass vase her uncle had made. Her desk bore a brass paperweight inscribed with Drake’s Dragon Slayers and a depiction of a heroic knight killing a dragon. It was a “morale-boosting”

gift from her boss that always had to be on display, especially if reporters might be stopping by.

Hez lowered himself into one of her government-issue office chairs. “What’s the word?”

“Busy,”

she replied without hesitation. “The word is definitely busy. We’ve been scrambling nonstop, but things are going well so far. We interviewed Hernando again and got our warrant the same day we met with you.”

“Wow, that’s great. I had no idea.”

She gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry I didn’t loop you in. He was willing to talk to us directly and time was of the essence.”

Hez arched an eyebrow. “And there may be a security leak somewhere on my side of the fence.”

She shrugged. “The fewer people who know, the better.”

“I get it. I would’ve done the same thing. Are you planning another roadblock? Don’t tell me if you’d rather not.”

“I trust you personally. Just don’t tell anyone else.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Okay.”

She got up, shut the door, and returned to her seat. “The plan is no roadblock this time. We managed to get a tiny GPS tracker to Hernando before he dropped off the looted artifact. He hid it in the piece, so we’ve been tracking the smugglers’ route. We know every place they stopped, and we have an ID on every vehicle they’ve used. Once the artifact reaches its destination, we and our partners can wrap up the whole operation in simultaneous raids across the U.S. and Mexico.”

“That’s terrific! I’m sure Drake will be thrilled.”

She smiled and pointed at the brass paperweight. “I polished that just in case we have press in the office in the next day or two.”

He chuckled—and then stopped when he did the mental math. “Next day or two. So the raids would happen as soon as the smugglers hand the artifact to Savannah?”

Hope pressed her lips together and nodded. “That’s the plan. We want to arrest her contact in the restaurant where they’re meeting. And once that happens, the other raids have to happen immediately, of course.”

Hez’s heart rate spiked. “Wait, so you’re saying she’ll be in the middle of a police raid?”

“Our New York colleagues will brief her before she goes in and will do everything they can to keep her safe. They’ll also give her the option to back out.”

“That’s unacceptable! They can arrest the smuggler on the street after they leave the restaurant.”

Hope grimaced. “I don’t like it either, but the New York team was adamant. They’re worried about bystander casualties and the target escaping if they do it on the street. They insist that it’s much safer for everyone if they do a preplanned operation in the restaurant.”

“It’s not safer for Savannah.”

She sighed. “No, it’s not. But she’ll have a choice and people walking by on the street won’t.”

Hez knew what she’d choose, of course. She’d march straight into the lion’s den without hesitation. He offered up the first of a steady stream of silent prayers. He loved Savannah’s courage—except right now.

* * *

The hustle and bustle of New York City always surprised Savannah. Though she’d been here a handful of times, she always forgot how many people it held. The streets and sidewalks teemed with a kaleidoscope of humanity, all seemingly hurrying in different directions. But it wasn’t the chaos of the city that caused her heart to race as she sat in the back of the taxi and tensed as the driver navigated the insane traffic—it was knowing how much depended on her performance today. If the smuggler spotted the wire tucked into her silk blouse or any of the police watching her every move, all bets were off and she would have failed.

This could all spool out perfectly, or she could end up shot and dying on the floor. She wasn’t afraid of heaven, but Ella’s death had nearly destroyed Hez, and losing Savannah would finish the job.

Her thoughts ran through who might walk in that door. She hoped to recognize the smuggler, but she couldn’t imagine anyone she knew doing this to TGU.

She watched the map on her phone, then leaned forward when the restaurant was still a few blocks away. “I’d like to be dropped here.”

If the smuggler was already there and watching, she wanted to be able to do the same. She handed over cash, then scrambled out into a cold, blustery February wind that sent icy fingers down her neck.

She zipped up her inadequate coat and hurried down Pine Street. The scents of car exhaust, grilling meat, and hot asphalt from a street repair assaulted her nose. The sounds of car horns, jackhammers, and dozens of people talking at once crowded into her ears. Her steps slowed as she turned onto Pearl and neared the restaurant. She looked around, scanning for anyone familiar.

A man, collar up against the wind, sheltered in the doorway of a storefront opposite the restaurant. She glanced at him and froze. Wasn’t that Graham Warner, Nora’s new romantic interest? Could he be the one meeting her? She ducked out of sight into a deli with her heart pounding. Though she hadn’t seen any police officers, they had to be here somewhere.

She paused by the door and whispered into the hidden wire, “I saw someone I recognized—Graham Warner, the university bookstore manager. He’s six-two with blond hair. Khaki slacks, white shirt, and navy blazer. He seems to be scouting out people like I am.”

“We see him,”

a voice said from the tiny microphone hidden in her hair near her ear.

Once her panic dissipated, she ducked back out into the wind and hurried down the sidewalk without looking at Graham again. Would he abort the meeting once he recognized her? Probably, but she needed to get to the restaurant.

She entered Mad Dog & Beans ten minutes ahead of the meeting time and glanced around as she waited to be seated. It was nearly two o’clock and the place wasn’t busy. She mentioned the reservation for Priest and asked for a back table. The hostess beckoned for her to follow, and Savannah wound her way through the seated patrons to a table in the corner. She’d been too nervous to eat breakfast, and the aromas of Mexican spices and cheese made her stomach rumble.

She shrugged out of her coat and draped it on the back of her chair, then ordered coffee along with chips and salsa and settled down to wait. With her back to the wall, she watched the entrance to the restaurant. Did Nora’s association with Graham implicate her in the scheme too?

Savannah battled a wave of nausea. Her best friend couldn’t be working against her—she wouldn’t believe it without proof. She tried to formulate a prayer for strength and wisdom, but all she could come up with was a single word: Help!

It was still five minutes before the planned time to meet. Would Graham come in or stay out there watching? They’d only met once, so maybe he hadn’t recognized her.

A petite woman dressed in a smart navy suit stopped at the hostess stand. Savannah’s view was blocked by the tall hostess, and she couldn’t see the woman’s face. The hostess turned and started leading the woman in Savannah’s direction.

Savannah bit back a gasp and rose to her feet when she finally saw the woman’s face. “Jess?”