Cold as Ice (Lucy Kincaid #17) - Allison Brennan Page 0,11

it over to the feds. Elise might not even be planning on killing Mona. She might just be playing with her, scaring her, which she’d clearly already done.

Sean looked at his watch. He had to get going, Lucy would be home by eleven, and he needed more information before he told her what was going on.

“I’m going to give you a list of things to do. This is important, Mona.”

She opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of American beer, put it on the counter.

“I don’t want a drink.”

“Fine, be that way. Just tell me what to do.” She took out her phone and opened up the note app.

Sean rubbed his eyes. Okay, she was scared. He got that. Hell, Elise was only eighteen but she scared the shit out of Sean because she was unpredictable. And Mona had helped him and Lucy when they needed it. She was a criminal, but she wasn’t all bad. No one was all bad.

Except anyone with the last name of Hunt.

He picked up the beer and twisted off the cap. Took a long swallow. “I’m going to find out where Elise is and what she’s doing, but you need to protect yourself. I still think you need to take that note to the police, but I get it. You don’t want to go to the police. So, first thing, get a full-time bodyguard…”

* * *

If Mona was killed Monday night, chances were the police found his prints at her place. On the desk, the door, the kitchen, the beer bottle. But they should also have her phone, and would know that she had called him once Saturday, four times on Sunday, which he’d ignored, then Monday late morning, which he had answered and spoke to her for about three minutes.

He could say that she had hired him, except that she hadn’t. She hadn’t given him money or signed a contract. She’d essentially blackmailed him. Well—that was harsh. They had an understanding, and mutually assured destruction usually worked well. But he had more to lose than she did, because he was married to a cop.

You should have told Lucy about Elise from the beginning.

Should haves weren’t going to do him any good now. Lucy would be angry because he was trying to protect her, but he hadn’t wanted her to worry about Elise until he had more information. His home security was solid, he knew Lucy was covered at work, and he went over advanced security with Jesse.

Sean had begun tracking Elise Hunt. She had no digital footprint, but he’d found the property she’d inherited in Los Angeles and hired a PI to sit on it. Most of the Hunt property had been seized under asset forfeiture laws but her lawyer had managed to get her a chunk that had been owned by her mother prior to her birth. That alone was worth more than a million for the land only.

Elise had flown to Los Angeles after being released from juvenile detention. She was out, free and clear, no probation. She likely had numerous fake IDs, she could have a car, but there was no record of her—under her name—returning to Texas.

Nico, his PI, had eyes on her Tuesday afternoon, but that was only a few hours after Sean put Nico onto the case. No change in her status since, and Sean didn’t know what good it would do sitting on her property, though he’d asked Nico to keep tabs on her for a week.

That’s where he was in his investigation when he was arrested this morning. Today he had a scheduled meeting with the warden of the facility Elise had been housed in, a longtime decorated corrections officer named Kathy Pine, but that wouldn’t happen now.

Dammit!

You should have told Lucy.

He told himself to shut up. Of course he should have. If Elise Hunt was behind this, Lucy had to be doubly careful.

He wished he could get a message to Lucy to keep the meeting with the warden. She might have information they needed, and now he’d be a no-show.

He remembered the last thing he’d said to Mona Hill before he left Monday night.

She walked him to the door, unhappy, hugging herself. “Mona,” he said. “Look at me.”

“You don’t care about me.”

“You’re wrong. You called your bodyguard—that’s the first step. Do exactly what I told you, okay? And if you see her, call the police—then call me. There must be a cop you trust.”

She snorted. “Trust?”

“You know what I mean.”

“There’s a guy. Likes

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