deceit. He’d lied to her and he might die before she could even confront him about it. As her team continued to fire off electronic requests, Nora got a call from her analyst at the stadium.
“Logan left.”
“What?”
“She had to go directly to the meet and greet after the police talked to her. They said I could grab her afterward, but now she’s gone. Even her bodyguards don’t know where she went. She left the stadium and she’s not—”
“Answering her phone.” Nora finished the sentence and swore, startling everyone in the conference room. Everything in this case circled back to Logan. How had she thought pinning Logan Russo out of the ring would be any easier than inside it?
The entire drive home, she saw nothing but Logan, every untouchable line of her body, her glossy, slicked-back hair, her smirking mouth, her dark eyes shining with the intractable force of her personality. Nora had spent a year of her life fixated on this woman, because—she realized, ironically—it had been safe. She couldn’t be hurt, standing in a corner, watching a celebrity from a distance. A fantasy would never accuse or abandon her. A fantasy asked for nothing in return. The fantasy of Logan had filled all the places she’d kept empty, the caverns she’d carved to hold herself apart. This case had shattered the safety of her fantasies, had brought the real Logan into dangerous proximity. The real Logan had taken her independence, her best friend, and, if Nora wasn’t more careful than Aaden or Corbett, she might destroy her entire life.
When Nora got home, she needed to run. The urge to disappear into the trails the way she used to, before she’d ever known Strike or Logan Russo, overwhelmed her, but Henry had been waiting in the driveway for her as soon as she pulled up.
“Only three more hours until fireworks.” He was practically bouncing, a sudden reminder this was a day most people enjoyed, a day for relaxation and sun-soaked barbecues. Mike had mentioned a parade, hadn’t he?
“Here.” Remembering, she reached into her console and pulled out the box of sparklers she’d bought downtown. “These should keep you busy until then.”
He accepted them grudgingly. “Those are for babies.”
“The package warnings, not to mention all available logic, point to the contrary. I’m going for a run.”
“Can I come?”
How long had it been since they’d hiked the trails together? Since he’d asked to spend time with her? Maybe it was the thought of Sam White’s boys and their long-lost innocence, or maybe it was the image of Bilan sitting in an empty bedroom, but Nora blinked away tears and told him to change into tennis shoes.
Almost as soon as they got on the trails, though, he kept a suspicious lead, stretching the distance between them until he made that turn into the deep woods, the ten-mile loop where few people ventured, and his ten-year-old boy motives became clear. He lit the firework and ran straight into the forest, heedless of the consequences.
He barreled up a hill, waving the sparkler in the air as his too-long legs flashed white before disappearing over the ridge. She lengthened her stride, feeling the unused muscles burn into life. Piles of dead leaves hid under boughs on either side of the trail—brown, dry, and flammable. She pushed herself faster, reaching the summit of the hill in time to see him disappear around another bend.
Calling his name again and hearing only receding laughter, she sprinted down the trail. She’d lost sight of him completely; even the hissing ball of light had vanished. She pushed around curves and up more rocky inclines, expecting to spot him at every turn but finding nothing except more forest. Her breath shortened, coming in pants now as the adrenaline met resistance in her body. She passed a used sparkler wire, still smoking on the ground, and grabbed it before it could ignite. An ugly feeling broke over her skin. It was like chasing the Strike money, the prize just out of reach, evident but untouchable. How could she expect to find twenty million in the Caribbean if she couldn’t even find a child setting an entire forest ablaze?
Finally, as she crested another hill at the top of a large open valley, Henry came into view. He’d stopped at the mouth of a meadow, sunlit and secluded, the long grasses waving toward another burned-out sparkler wire in his hand. He didn’t see her. He was talking to a woman leaning against a wooden bench