My 6-year-old granddaughter phoned me in panic just after midnight. “Mommy says the baby is coming! Help!” I asked, “Where’s daddy?” She answered, “He k!cked mommy’s tummy and left.”…..

He’s prepared to eliminate the evidence. He’d kill a six-year-old girl. He’s that desperate, that paranoid. In his mind, you’ve destroyed his life, so he’s going to destroy yours. Harry was quiet for a long moment, running through options and contingencies. Then he smiled, and it was the coldest expression Marshall had ever seen.

Actually, this works out perfectly. How do you figure? Because Trent just gave me everything I need to finish this. Call your contact at the state police. Tell them you’ve got intelligence about a planned kidnapping. Give them all the details, time, location, method. You want to tip off the cops. I want to tip off the right cops.

Not Timonss and his corrupt friends, but the state investigation team that’s coming to town with a new sheriff. Marshall’s eyes widened as he understood. You moved the timeline up. Called in every favor I had. Sheriff Lasal is arriving tomorrow morning, two days early, with a full state investigation team. They’ll be in town for exactly one hour before Trent tries to kidnap Lydia.

That’s cutting it close. Close is what makes it perfect. Trent will walk right into a sting operation. And instead of just gambling charges, he’ll be facing federal kidnapping counts. What about Lydia? You can’t use a six-year-old as bait. I’m not. Harry’s smile turned genuine for the first time in days. Lydia has been staying with my old Navy buddy Griffin Lasowl and his wife for the past three days.