I closed the Mauricio case after I received a call from a contrite Gus apologizing for taking up my time. He told me they’d mail the check the next day, with a bonus for all the problems they’d caused. I said it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted.

I’d already finished my paperwork by the time he called, so after I hung up, I headed home. When the weather got better, I was going to move my things over to the upstairs apartment. I wasn’t hurting for money, but there was no point in paying rent if I had a place free and clear, with only property taxes to pay. The thought of being there, living where Adare had lived, no longer freaked me out. In a way, it was almost comforting.

I was rummaging through the fridge for something to eat when someone knocked on my door. After the whole Elise thing two days ago, I wasn’t about to open my door without seeing who it was. This time, at least, I was happy to see who was on the other side. Or I was until I opened the door and saw the grim expression on Clay’s face.

“What’s wrong?” I moved aside to let Clay in.

He didn’t sit down, and he didn’t take off his coat, which I knew meant whatever had brought him here was even more serious than I’d initially thought.

“Serge is dead.”

It took a moment for the words to register, and even then, I didn’t quite believe them. “He’s dead?”

“I was just down at the morgue,” he said as he walked over to one of my front windows and looked out. “FCPD pulled a body from a dumpster behind the Lory Student Center and ran his prints. It came back as our guy.”

“When did he…?” I leaned against the table. “How…I don’t even know what to ask?”

“They haven’t done a full autopsy yet,” Clay said, “but whatever the final report says, it’s going to be violent and painful.”

I opened my mouth to ask for specifics – the asshole had beat and drugged me, after all – but then I took another look at the haunted shadow in Clay’s eyes and thought better of it. It had to be bad if it made him look like that.

“Do you think it was rivals or his employers?” I asked. Those mysterious employers that I’d thought might have been my father. Which reminded me, “Any word on my dad?”

“Nothing on any of it,” he said. “The FBI took over the investigation, but the chances of it leading anywhere are slim. Serge was a middleman, not important enough to know the big names, but important enough to make problems.”

“And my dad?”

“We’ve gotten in a ton of tips, and we’re working with the Indiana cops to follow up on them, but so far, there hasn’t been anything solid.” His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

As I watched, his face paled, and he cursed.

“News?”

“Pack a bag.” He disappeared into my bedroom.

“Hey, jackass!” I followed. “You don’t go into a girl’s bedroom without an invitation.”

He was at the window when I entered but didn’t turn around. “Pack a bag, Rona. I’m serious.”

“Yeah, you sound serious,” I said, crossing over to stand behind him. “But you haven’t given me a good reason why. Or any reason, for that matter.”

He turned now, and I was surprised to see how shaken he looked. “Our techs just managed to get into the phone we found near the dumpster. Everything points to it being Serge’s phone and one of the numbers in it is from DC.”

“A lot of people live in DC,” I said as his meaning sunk in. “Do we know for sure it belongs to someone in the government?”

“We’re still running the numbers, but Ray and I don’t want to take any chances. You need to come to Denver with me.” He went to my closet and opened it, then stopped. “Where’s your suitcase?”

“I’m not going to Denver,” I said. “I’m fine here. Just because someone in the government might be involved with the trafficking ring that kidnapped me doesn’t mean I’m in danger.”

“No,” he agreed, “it doesn’t, but the fact that your license was found next to the phone probably does.”

The ‘mugging’ seemed so long ago that I’d all but forgotten that my license had been taken. My Colorado license. With this address.

“It’s possible that Serge could have passed along your information, but even if he didn’t, the people who killed him almost definitely have it.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and tried to pretend that the thought didn’t chill me to the bone. “If they do, they haven’t done anything about it. Why would they wait?”

Clay folded his arms and glowered down at me. “That’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

“That’s not your choice to make.”

“Are you seriously doing this, Rona? I’m just trying to protect you.”

I shook my head. “If I’m going somewhere, it’s going to be my choice. I have a job I love here, and I doubt it’ll survive me being gone again for who knows how long.”

“You can’t be worrying about work when your life is at stake,” he argued.

“For someone who works as a profiler, you’ve been pretty shit with figuring out how I think,” I said mildly. “Jalen and I were going to meet in a few hours to go to a New Year’s Eve party for his work. I’ll stay with him for a few days.”

To Clay’s credit, he didn’t immediately dismiss the idea. He didn’t look happy about it, but he at least took a minute to think about it. “All right,” he said finally. “Jalen has state-of-the-art security. You’ll be safe there too.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled,” I said. “You and Jalen are going to have to get over your issues, you know.”

“If he keeps you safe, I’ll consider it.” He leaned down and picked up a duffel bag. “Now, pack.”