The next day I go to the hospital to see Natalia. Travis hasn’t contacted me, and I don’t expect him to. What happened yesterday was probably just a crazy, one-time thing. There’s no reason to expect anything more.

I park my car in the hospital ramp and make my way down the corridors toward Natalia’s room. I exit the elevators to the third floor and am turning down the last hallway, when a thirty-something man with slicked black hair and an expensive suit stands up from a chair in a waiting alcove.

“Special Agent Brentano,” he intones. “This is an unexpected pleasure. May I have a word?”

He looks vaguely familiar, but I’m not sure why. He sort of has the appearance of a B-grade movie star. Like an actor on a TV show that’s destined to fail after the first season.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” I ask politely.

“Not quite,” he replies. Beneath the smooth tone, there’s a slight edge to his voice — so slight I’m not sure if I’m imagining it. “I’m Jarred Holloway. I’m the mayor of Tanner Springs.”

“I see.” I look at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it. His skin is dry and cool. Vaguely reptilian.

“Chief Crup told me that you were paying us a visit,” he continues. He holds my palm in his just an instant too long. He squeezes once, tightly, before letting go.

“Yes,” I say noncommittally. I’ve been in this town long enough that I’m starting to feel reticent about giving anyone any information about why I’m here. Especially this man. There’s something… off about him. Something unpleasant. He’s handsome, I guess, but in this weird, too-perfect way. His face looks like plastic. Like he’s had work done. The result is vaguely robotic.

“He mentioned that you’re working on an anonymous tip you received. Something about…” — he wrinkles his nose in a pantomime of disgust and disbelief — “sex trafficking?”

I’m beginning to seriously regret my courtesy call to Chief Crup.

But then I remember something.

I never told Crup what I was investigating.

The thought hits me like a thunderbolt, and I have trouble concealing the reaction. I force my face into a mask of neutrality and change the subject.

“Mayor Holloway,” I ask. “Were you here at the hospital looking for me?”

“Oh, no, no.” He raises a hand and smiles. One canine tooth in his smile is ever-so-slightly off. “I’m just here visiting a dear friend. Just a happy coincidence that I should run into you.”

“Even more of a coincidence that you should know what I look like,” I remark drily.

“This is a small town. Faces are familiar. A newcomer” — he raises one eyebrow at me playfully — “stands out fairly quickly.”

“I see.”

“How are things going? With your ‘investigation’?” He says the word as though it’s in air quotes. “If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”

“Actually, I do mind,” I reply. “The FBI’s work isn’t something I can share with the public.”

“But surely, the mayor of the town whose reputation you’re tarnishing deserves to know something about the status of your investigation?” he snaps back.

Aha. His ego is bruised. Well, that’s not something that can be helped. And his emotional reaction puts him on the defensive, which is to my advantage.

“Don’t take it personally,” I say cheerfully. “Sometimes criminal organizations prefer the cover of a peaceful small town to do their work. It can be easier to hide in plain sight. It has no bearing on your effectiveness as a mayor.”

“I see,” he murmurs. There’s something vaguely menacing in his tone. Almost threatening.

“You grew up here,” he says then. “Isn’t that right?”

It sounds like a question, but it’s clearly not.

“Yes, I did,” I admit.

“Mmm. So did I.” One corner of his mouth twitches. “Funny we never ran into each other back then.”

“I don’t think we’re the same age,” I observe.

“True. And also, I doubt we ran in the same circles.”

The insult is clear. As is the implication underneath it. Mayor Holloway has had a look into my background. He knows about my childhood.

“You probably had reason not to like it here very much,” he continues. “Living in that trailer park. And then foster care afterwards.” Holloway makes a tsk sound with his mouth. “So sad when people fall through the cracks. I suppose it’s understandable that you’d have a personal vendetta against the town.”

This is not what I was expecting. I can’t help it: I burst out laughing. “What?” I ask in disbelief.

“Though I must say it’s fairly immature after all these years, to be so committed to hurting the good name of our town with unfounded rumors.”

“I’m sorry to say, this is not a question of rumors, Mayor Holloway. We received a tip from a citizen, and it seems as though that tip may be credible.”

The look on Holloway’s face doesn’t change. But as I watch, his skin goes from an even-toned pale pink to a blotchy red. “That’s not possible,” he bites out.

“Oh, it is,” I assure him. A little late, I realize I might have said too much. But knowing I’ve hit a nerve with him is too satisfying for me to completely regret it.

“Ms. Brentano,” he sneers, “I believe it’s time for me to have a word with your supervisor. Your presence here in Tanner Springs is no longer welcome.”

I shrug. “Special Agent Craig Lafontaine. Cleveland Field Office.”

“I want you out of this town, Ms. Brentano.”

“That’s Agent Brentano,” I correct him. “And I will be gone soon. Just as soon as I have the information I need.”

Mayor Holloway doesn’t bother to shake my hand as he leaves. He simply tugs his expensive suit coat into place, brushes past me, and heads toward the elevator.

I wait until the doors shut behind him before I snort and turn away. I guess I won this battle.

Still, I’d better be careful and keep my eyes open. I wouldn’t be surprised if Holloway is spoiling for war.

When I tap on Natalia’s door, a tiny, halting voice calls out, “Come in.”

I push into the room to find her sitting up in bed, looking much more cheerful than last time I saw her. In a chair beside her is a woman of about forty-five years old. She has brown hair flecked with gray, tied back in a loose ponytail. Her face is slightly weathered, and kind.

“Hello,” she says in accented English. “Are you the FBI agent?”

“Olga?” I ask. At her nod, I reply, “Yes, I’m Brooke Brentano. Thank you so much for being here to help Natalia.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she smiles. “I clean houses for a living, but I told my customers today, I am sick.”

“That’s very kind of you.” I nod at Natalia. “How is she?”

“She is good!” Olga looks over at the girl. “I’m helping her with her English.” Olga says something to Natalia, who looks at me with determination.

“Thank you for helping me,” she recites. “I am very grateful.”

“Oh, Natalia,” I say. Tears spring to my eyes, but I manage to swallow them back down. “It’s my pleasure.”

“She knows some English,” Olga explains. “But only from school. And from…” she trails off, her face stricken.

I nod quickly. “I understand.” I glance around the room and spot a chair sitting in one corner. I pull it toward the bed next to Olga and sit down. “Natalia,” I say, looking at Olga so she’ll translate. “I am working on finding your father. When we find him, we will fly him here to come get you. And then together, you’ll go home.”

Olga speaks to Natalia, whose face blossoms into a wide smile. “Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes overflowing with tears.

I have to clear my throat before I continue. “You’re welcome,” I say. “Before you go home, I would like to get an official statement from you. Which will probably take place in Cleveland. With an official interpreter. For now, though, I’d like to ask you some more questions about what happened to you, if that’s okay?”

I wait for Olga to explain. When she’s done, Natalia nods at me.

“Okay. Here goes.”

I ask Natalia to repeat the story she told me yesterday, about how she got here, and how she escaped. She gives me a few more details this time, but her story is exactly the same as before. I take notes and ask for clarification here and there.

“Natalia,” I say then, “I’d like to ask you about something that happened yesterday. After you talked on the blue phone to the interpreter, there was a man who came into the room. The man with the leather vest.”

Natalia’s eyes grow wide and frightened. She nods her head and says something to Olga.

“She says the man who came in yesterday was wearing the same vest as one of the men who would come to where she was being held. He was there often, and went with her and some of the other girls.”

“How many men were there, Natalia? About how many men came to have sex with you and the others?”

Natalia answers through Olga. “More than a dozen.”

“And how many girls were held with you?”

“Ten.”

“The man in the leather vest,” I press. “Are you sure this was the same vest that you saw on the man yesterday? Or just one that looked sort of like it?”

Natalia shakes her head and speaks rapidly to Olga. “The same. She says she recognizes the word from her English lessons back home because she heard some English prayers and knew that means ‘God’.”

“Lord,” Natalia repeats emphatically.

I take a deep breath. This is a question I don’t want to ask, but I have to. “Natalia. What did the man look like? The one who… hurt you… who was wearing that leather vest? I need you to describe him in as much detail as possible. Everything you can remember about him.”

I let Natalia take her time, writing down notes as Olga translates. From what Natalia tells me, the man in the leather cut is on the older side, maybe her father’s age, with gray and black hair and a gray beard. He’s large, strong-looking but with a stomach. Natalia even describes a few of his tattoos. One in particular, on his left bicep, stood out to her. A skull with long hair and a bandana, pointing a gun in his skeletal fist.

Eventually, I see that Natalia is getting tired, and I remember that she’s still recuperating from a terrible ordeal.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” I say, smiling at the both of them. “Thank you so much, Natalia. I’m hoping to be back tomorrow with news about when your father will be here.”

“When will she get out of hospital?” Olga asks me.

“I’m not sure,” I say. “I’m going to go talk to the nurses about that. But we’ll find her a place to stay, don’t worry.”

Natalia leans over and whispers something to her. Olga hesitates.

“Natalia says she is afraid to leave hospital. She is afraid they will come for her.”

For some reason, Jarred Holloway’s face flashes in my mind when Olga says this.

“I’m just here visiting a dear friend. Just a happy coincidence that I should run into you.”

I never told Chief Crup I was investigating a human trafficking tip.

Somehow Holloway knew it, though.

I think back to the laundromat. And how it was closed the first time I was there.

And how the police car followed me around in the days after I visited Chief Crup.

My spine tingles at the back of my neck. Something’s not right.

“Natalia,” I say. “I’ll come back and visit you again, very soon. In the meantime, don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

As I walk out of the hospital room, my mind is swirling in a million directions. After a few days of having essentially no leads, suddenly there are strands of them everywhere.

First, though, I go in search of Isabel. Thankfully, she’s working this shift. I see her coming out of a patient’s room near the nursing station.

She smiles, recognizing me instantly. “Agent…”

“Brooke,” I interrupt her. “Isabel, I just came from Natalia’s room. Can you tell me when she’s being discharged?”

“Well,” she begins. “Physically, except for being a little malnourished, there’s nothing wrong with her. The hospital is going to want her out of here as soon as possible since she’s not got insurance.” She frowns regretfully. “I don’t think we’ll be able to keep her here beyond tomorrow.”

“Okay.” It’s not ideal, but at least I know. “Look, I need to level with you. I’m a little worried that she could potentially be in some danger. I can’t quite explain, but ideally, I’d like to have her room guarded. Unfortunately…” I hesitate. “I, um, would prefer not to involve the local police. And until I can get another agent down here to keep an eye on her, I don’t have a lot of options.”

Isabel snorts and rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize about not wanting the police involved. Remember, I’m with one of the Lords of Carnage. I know a lot more about the cops in this town than most. And trust me, under Mayor Holloway, they’re the last people I’d call for protection.”

I blink at her, surprised. It’s no shock that the MC wouldn’t trust cops, but it’s interesting that she’s mentioned Holloway as well. I take a deep breath and decide to take a leap of faith.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. I need to work on finding Natalia a safe place to be after she’s released. In the meantime, is there any way that you can keep an eye on her? Make sure no one goes in there who shouldn’t be?”

Isabel reaches out and puts a hand on my arm. “I’ll tell the other nurses, and get hospital security to keep an eye on her room.”

Relief floods through me. “Thank you so much, Isabel.”

“Don’t mention it. Really.” Her eyes lock on mine. “I know what it’s like to feel unsafe, and to need protection.”

I walk out of the hospital feeling better than I have in days. But with every step, a weight begins to return, in some ways even heavier than before.

I just asked Isabel to trust me, and to help me. She agreed without reservation.

And now, she thinks I’m off to find Natalia a place to stay. Which I am.

But I’m also about to go spy on her husband’s club.

And what I find might end up blowing the Lords of Carnage apart.